II ! 


'^mmmmusMm 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


THE  FILIGREE  BALL 


'I/K)K  HERE  !     WHAT  DO  YOTI  MAKE  OP  THIS?" 


THE  FILIGREE 

BALL:  BEING  A  FULL 
AND  TRUE  ACCOUNT  OF 
THE  SOLUTION  OF  THE 
MYSTERY  CONCERNING 
THE  JEFFREY-MOORE 
AFFAIR 

BY 

ANNA  KATHERINE  GREEN 


AUTHOK  OF 

THE  LEAVENWORTH   CASE 


ILLUSTRATED  BY  C.  M.  RELYEA 


GROSSET  &  DUNLAP 

New  York 


COPYRIGHT,  1803 
THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPAN1 

MABCH 


P5 


R7 


CONTENTS 

BOOK  I 

CHAPTER 

I  "THE  MOORE  HOUSE  1"  1 

II   I  ENTER  9 

III  I  REMAIN  » 

IV  SIGNED,  VERONICA  47 
V  MASTER  AND  DOG  61 

VI  GOSSIP  72 

VII   SLY  WORK  n 

VIII   SLYER  WORK  108 

IX  JINNY  115 

X  FRANCIS  JEFFREY  180 

BOOK  II 

XI   DETAILS  141 

XII  THRUST  AND  PARRY  171 

XIII   CHIEFLY  THRUST  1« 

XIV   "LET  US  HAVE  TALLMANI"  197 

XV   WHITE  BOW  AND  PINK  204 

XVI   AN  EGOTIST  OF  THE  FIRST  WATER  23S 

XVII   A  FEESH  START  243 

XVni  IN  THE  GRASS  288 


CONTENTS 


BOOK  III 

OHAPTBB  PAG« 

XIX  IN  TAMPA  275 

XX   "THE  COLONEL'S  OWN"  282 

XXI  THE  HEAKT  OF  THE  PUZZLE  312 

XXII   A  THREAD  IN  HAND  825 

XXIII  WOBDS  IN  THE  NIGHT  342 

XXIV  TANTALIZING  TACTICS  368 
XXV    "WHO  WILL  TELL  THE  MAN?"  377 

XXVI   BUDGE  402 

XXVII   "YOU  HAVE  COMB1"  414 


BOOK  I 
THE  FORBIDDEN  ROOM 


THE  FILIGREE  BALL 


"THE  MOORE  HOUSE?     ARE  YOU  SPEAKING  OF 

THE    MOORE    HOUSE?" 

For  a  detective  whose  talents  had  not  been 
recognized  at  headquarters,  I  possessed  an  ambi- 
tion which,  fortunately  for  my  standing  with  the 
lieutenant  of  the  precinct,  had  not  yet  been  ex- 
pressed in  words.  Though  I  had  small  reason  for 
expecting  great  things  of  myself,  I  had  always 
cherished  the  hope  that  if  a  big  case  came  my  way 
I  should  be  found  able  to  do  something  with  it — 
something  more,  that  is,  than  I  had  seen  accom- 
plished by  the  police  of  the  District  of  Columbia 
since  I  had  had  the  honor  of  being  one  of  their 
number.  Therefore,  when  I  found  myself  plunged, 
almost  without  my  own  volition,  into  the  Jeffrey- 
Moore  affair,  I  believed  that  the  opportunity  had 
come  whereby  I  might  distinguish  myself. 

It  had  complications,  this  Jeffrey-Moore  affair; 
greater  ones  than  the  public  ever  knew,  keen  as 
1 


2  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

the  interest  in  it  ran  both  in  and  out  of  Washing- 
ton. 

This  is  why  I  propose  to  tell  the  story  of  this 
great  tragedy  from  my  own  standpoint,  even  if  in 
so  doing  I  risk  the  charge  of  attempting  to  exploit 
my  own  connection  with  this  celebrated  case.  In 
its  course  I  encountered  as  many  disappointments 
as  triumphs,  and  brought  out  of  the  affair  a  heart 
as  sore  as  it  was  satisfied ;  for  I  am  a  lover  of  wom- 
en and — 

But  I  am  keeping  you  from  the  story  itself. 

I  was  at  the  station-house  the  night  Uncle  David 
came  in.  He  was  always  called  Uncle  David,  even 
by  the  urchins  who  followed  him  in  the  street;  so 
I  am  showing  him  no  disrespect,  gentleman  though 
he  is,  by  giving  him  a  title  which  as  completely 
characterized  him  in  those  days,  as  did  his  moody 
ways,  his  quaint  attire  and  the  persistence  with 
which  he  kept  at  his  side  his  great  mastiff,  Rudge. 

I  had  long  since  heard  of  the  old  gentleman  as 
one  of  the  most  interesting  residents  of  the  precinct. 
I  had  even  seen  him  more  than  once  on  the  ave- 
nue, but  I  had  never  before  been  brought  face  to 
face  with  him,  and  consequently  had  much  too 
superficial  a  knowledge  of  his  countenance  to  de- 
termine offhand  whether  the  uneasy  light  in  his 
small  gray  eyes  was  natural  to  them,  or  simply 


"THE  MOORE  HOUSE?"  3 

the  result  of  present  excitement.  But  when  he  be- 
gan to  talk  I  detected  an  unmistakable  tremor  in 
his  tones,  and  decided  that  he  was  in  a  state  of  sup- 
pressed agitation ;  though  he  appeared  to  have 
nothing  more  alarming  to  impart  than  the  fact 
that  he  had  seen  a  light  burning  in  some  house 
presumably  empty. 

It  was  all  so  trivial  that  I  gave  him  but  scant 
attention  till  he  let  a  name  fall  which  caused  me 
to  prick  up  my  ears  and  even  to  put  in  a  word. 
"The  Moore  house,"  he  had  said. 

"The  Moore  house?"  I  repeated  in  amazement. 
"Are  you  speaking  of  the  Moore  house  ?" 

A  thousand  recollections  came  with  the  name. 

"What  other?"  he  grumbled,  directing  toward 
me  a  look  as  keen  as  it  was  impatient.  "Do  you 
think  that  I  would  bother  myself  long  about  a 
house  I  had  no  interest  in,  or  drag  Rudge  from 
his  warm  rug  to  save  some  ungrateful  neighbor 
from  a  possible  burglary?  No,  it  is  my  house 
which  some  rogue  has  chosen  to  enter.  That  is," 
he  suavely  corrected,  as  he  saw  surprise  in  every 
eye,  "the  house  which  the  law  will  give  me,  if  any- 
thing ever  happens  to  that  chit  of  a  girl  whom 
my  brother  left  behind  him." 

Growling  some  words  at  the  dog,  who  showed  a 
decided  inclination  to  lie  down  where  he  was,  the 


4  THE   FILIGREE   BALL 

old  man  made  for  the  door  and  in  another  moment 
would  have  been  in  the  street,  if  I  had  not  stepped 
after  him. 

"You  are  a  Moore  and  live  in  or  near  that  old 
house?"  I  asked. 

The  surprise  with  which  he  met  this  question 
daunted  me  a  little. 

"How  long  have  you  been  in  Washington,  I 
should  like  to  ask?"  was  his  acrid  retort. 

"Oh,  some  five  months." 

His  good  nature,  or  what  passed  for  such  in  this 
irascible  old  man,  returned  in  an  instant;  and  he 
curtly  but  not  unkindly  remarked : 

"You  haven't  learned  much  in  that  time." 
Then,  with  a  nod  more  ceremonious  than  many  an- 
other man's  bow,  he  added,  with  sudden  dignity: 
"I  am  of  the  elder  branch  and  live  in  the  cottage 
fronting  the  old  place.  I  am  the  only  resident  on 
the  block.  When  you  have  lived  here  longer  you 
will  know  why  that  especial  neighborhood  is  not  a 
favorite  one  with  those  who  can  not  boast  of  the 
Moore  blood.  For  the  present,  let  us  attribute  the 
bad  name  that  it  holds  to — malaria."  And  with 
a  significant  hitch  of  his  lean  shoulders  which  set 
in  undulating  motion  every  fold  of  the  old-fash- 
ioned cloak  he  wore,  he  started  again  for  the  door. 

But  my  curiosity  was  by  this  time  roused  to 


"THE  MOORE  HOUSE?"  5 

fever  heat.  I  knew  more  about  this  house  than  he 
gave  me  credit  for.  No  one  who  had  read  the 
papers  of  late,  much  less  a  man  connected  with  the 
police,  could  help  being  well  informed  in  all  the 
details  of  its  remarkable  history.  What  I  had 
failed  to  know  was  his  close  relationship  to  the 
family  whose  name  for  the  last  two  weeks  had  been 
in  every  mouth. 

"Wait!"  I  called  out.  "You  say  that  you  live 
opposite  the  Moore  house.  You  can  then  tell 
me—" 

But  he  had  no  mind  to  stop  for  any  gossip. 

"It  was  all  in  the  papers,"  he  called  back. 
"Read  them.  But  first  be  sure  to  find  out  who  has 
struck  a  light  in  the  house  that  we  all  know  has  not 
even  a  caretaker  in  it." 

It  was  good  advice.  My  duty  and  my  curiosity 
both  led  me  to  follow  it. 

Perhaps  you  have  heard  of  the  distinguishing 
feature  of  this  house;  if  so,  you  do  not  need  my 
explanations.  But  if,  for  any  reason,  you  are  ig- 
norant of  the  facts  which  within  a  very  short  time 
have  set  a  final  seal  of  horror  upon  this  old,  his- 
toric dwelling,  then  you  will  be  glad  to  read 
what  has  made  and  will  continue  to  make  the 
Moore  house  in  Washington  one  to  be  pointed  at 
in  daylight  and  shunned  after  dark,  not  only  by 


6  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

superstitious  colored  folk,  but  by  all  who  are  sus- 
ceptible to  the  most  ordinary  emotions  of  fear  and 
dread. 

It  was  standing  when  Washington  was  a  village. 
It  antedates  the  Capitol  and  the  White  House. 
Built  by  a  man  of  wealth,  it  bears  to  this  day  the 
impress  of  the  large  ideas  and  quiet  elegance  of 
colonial  times;  but  the  shadow  which  speedily  fell 
across  it  made  it  a  marked  place  even  in  those 
early  days.  While  it  has  always  escaped  the 
hackneyed  epithet  of  "haunted,"  families  that  have 
moved  in  have  as  quickly  moved  out,  giving  as  their 
excuse  that  no  happiness  was  to  be  found  there 
and  that  sleep  was  impossible  under  its  roof.  That 
there  was  some  reason  for  this  lack  of  rest  within 
walls  which  were  not  without  their  tragic  reminis- 
cences, all  must  acknowledge.  Death  had  often  oc- 
curred there,  and  while  this  fact  can  be  stated  in 
regard  to  most  old  houses,  it  is  not  often  that  one 
can  say,  as  in  this  case,  that  it  was  invariably  sud- 
den and  invariably  of  one  character.  A  lifeless 
man,  lying  outstretched  on  a  certain  hearthstone, 
might  be  found  once  in  a  house  and  awaken  no 
special  comment;  but  when  this  same  discovery  has 
been  made  twice,  if  not  thrice,  during  the  history 
of  a  single  dwelling,  one  might  surely  be  pardoned 
a  distrust  of  its  seemingly  home-like  appointments, 
and  discern  in  its  slowly  darkening  walls  the  pres- 


"THE  MOORE  HOUSE?'*  7 

«nce  of  an  evil  which  if  left  to  itself  might  perish 
in  the  natural  decay  of  the  place,  but  which,  if  met 
and  challenged,  might  strike  again  and  make  an- 
other blot  on  its  thrice-crimsoned  hearthstone. 

But  these  are  old  fables  which  I  should  hardly 
presume  to  mention,  had  it  not  been  for  the  recent 
occurrence  which  has  recalled  them  to  all  men's 
minds  and  given  to  this  long  empty  and  slowly 
crumbling  building  an  importance  which  has 
spread  its  fame  from  one  end  of  the  country  to  the 
other.  I  refer  to  the  tragedy  attending  the  wed- 
ding lately  celebrated  there. 

Veronica  Moore,  rich,  pretty  and  wilful,  had 
long  cherished  a  strange  liking  for  this  frowning 
old  home  of  her  ancestors,  and,  at  the  most  critical 
time  of  her  life,  conceived  the  idea  of  proving  to 
herself  and  to  society  at  large  that  no  real  ban  lay 
upon  it  save  in  the  imagination  of  the  superstitious. 
So,  being  about  to  marry  the  choice  of  her  young 
heart,  she  caused  this  house  to  be  opened  for  the 
wedding  ceremony;  with  what  result,  you  know. 
Though  the  occasion  was  a  joyous  one  and  accom- 
panied by  all  that  could  give  cheer  to  such  a  func- 
tion, it  had  not  escaped  the  old-time  shadow.  One 
of  the  guests  straying  into  the  room  of  ancient 
and  unhallowed  memory,  the  one  room  which  had 
not  been  thrown  open  to  the  crowd,  had  been 
found  within  five  minutes  of  the  ceremony  lying 


8  THE   FILIGREE   BALL 

on  its  dolorous  hearthstone,  dead ;  and  though  th 
bride  was  spared  a  knowledge  of  the  dreadful  fac 
till  the  holy  words  were  said,  a  panic  had  seized  th 
guests  and  emptied  the  house  as  suddenly  and  coir 
pletely  as  though  the  plague  had  been  discovere 
there. 

This  is  why  I  hastened  to  follow  Uncle  Davi 
when  he  told  me  that  all  was  not  right  in  th; 
house  of  tragic  memories. 


n 

I   ENTER 

Though  past  seventy,  Uncle  David  was  a  brisk 
walker,  and  on  this  night  in  particular  he  sped 
along  so  fast  that  he  was  half-way  down  H  Street 
by  the  time  I  had  turned  the  corner  at  New  Hamp- 
shire Avenue. 

His  gaunt  but  not  ungraceful  figure,  merged  in 
that  of  the  dog  trotting  closely  at  his  heels,  was  the 
only  moving  object  in  the  dreary  vista  of  this  the 
most  desolate  block  in  Washington.  As  I  neared 
the  building,  I  was  so  impressed  by  the  surround- 
ing stillness  that  I  was  ready  to  vow  that  the  shad- 
ows were  denser  here  than  elsewhere  and  that  the 
few  gas  lamps,  which  flickered  at  intervals  down 
the  street,  shone  with  a  more  feeble  ray  than  in 
any  other  equal  length  of  street  in  Washington. 

Meanwhile,  the  shadow  of  Uncle  David  had  van- 
ished from  the  pavement.  He  had  paused  beside 
a  fence  which,  hung  with  vines,  surrounded  and 
nearly  hid  from  sight  the  little  cottage  he  had  men- 
tioned as  the  only  house  on  the  block  with  the  ex- 
9 


10  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

ception  of  the  great  Moore  place;  in  other  words, 
his  own  home. 

As  I  came  abreast  of  him  I  heard  him  muttering, 
not  to  his  dog  as  was  his  custom,  but  to  himself. 
In  fact,  the  dog  was  not  to  be  seen,  and  this  deser- 
tion on  the  part  of  his  constant  companion  seemed 
to  add  to  his  disturbance  and  affect  him  beyond 
all  reason.  I  could  distinguish  these  words 
amongst  the  many  he  directed  toward  the  unseen 
animal : 

"You're  a  knowing  one,  too  knowing!  You  see 
that  loosened  shutter  over  the  way  as  plainly  as  I 
do;  but  you're  a  coward  to  slink  away  from  it. 
I  don't.  I  face  the  thing,  and  what's  more,  I'll 
show  you  yet  what  I  think  of  a  dog  that  can't  stand 
his  ground  and  help  his  old  master  out  with  some 
show  of  courage.  Creaks,  does  it?  Well,  let  it 
creak !  I  don't  mind  its  creaking,  glad  as  I  should 
be  to  know  whose  hand — Halloo!  You've  come, 
have  you?"  This  to  me. "I  had  just  stepped  up  to 
him. 

"Yes,  I've  come.  Now  what  is  the  matter  with 
the  Moore  house?" 

He  must  have  expected  the  question,  yet  his  an- 
swer was  a  long  time  coming.  His  voice,  too, 
sounded  strained,  and  was  pitched  quite  too  high 
to  be  natural.  But  he  evidently  did  not  expect 
me  to  show  surprise  at  his  manner. 


I  ENTER  11 

"Look  at  that  window  over  there!"  he  cried  at 
last.  "That  one  with  the  slightly  open  shutter! 
Watch  and  you  will  see  that  shutter  move.  There ! 
it  creaked ;  didn't  you  hear  it  ?" 

A  growl — it  was  more  like  a  moan — came  from 
the  porch  behind  us.  Instantly  the  old  gentleman 
turned  and  with  a  gesture  as  fierce  as  it  was  in- 
stinctive, shouted  out: 

"Be  still  there!  If  you  haven't  the  courage  to 
face  a  blowing  shutter,  keep  your  jaws  shut  and 
don't  let  every  fellow  who  happens  along  know 
what  a  fool  you  are.  I  declare,"  he  maundered 
on,  half  to  himself  and  half  to  me,  "that  dog  is 
getting  old.  He  can't  be  trusted  any  more.  He 
forsakes  his  master  just  when —  The  rest  was 
lost  in  his  throat  which  rattled  with  something 
more  than  impatient  anger. 

Meanwhile  I  had  been  attentively  scrutinizing 
the  house  thus  pointedly  brought  to  my  notice. 
I  had  seen  it  many  times  before,  but,  as  it  hap- 
pened, had  never  stopped  to  look  at  it  when  the 
huge  trees  surrounding  it  were  shrouded  in  dark- 
ness. The  black  hollow  of  its  disused  portal  looked 
out  from  shadows  which  acquired  some  of  their 
somberness  from  the  tragic  memories  connected 
with  its  empty  void. 

Its  aspect  was  scarcely  reassuring.  Not  that 
superstition  lent  its  terrors  to  the  lonely  scene,  but 


12  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

that  through  the  blank  panes  of  the  window,  alter- 
nately appearing  and  disappearing  from  view  as 
the  shutter  pointed  out  by  Uncle  David  blew  to 
and  fro  in  the  wind,  I  saw,  or  was  persuaded  that 
I  saw,  a  beam  of  light  which  argued  an  unknown 
presence  within  walls  which  had  so  lately  been  de- 
clared unfit  for  any  man's  habitation. 

"You  are  right,"  I  now  remarked  to  the  uneasy 
figure  at  my  side.  "Some  one  is  prowling  through 
the  house  yonder.  Can  it  possibly  be  Mrs.  Jeffrey 
or  her  husband?" 

"At  night  and  with  no  gas  in  the  house? 
Hardly." 

The  words  were  natural,  but  the  voice  was  not. 
Neither  was  his  manner  quite  suited  to  the  occa- 
sion. Giving  him  another  sly  glance,  and  marking 
how  uneasily  he  edged  away  from  me  in  the  dark- 
ness, I  cried  out  more  cheerily  than  he  possibly 
expected : 

"I  will  summon  another  officer  and  we  three 
will  just  slip  across  and  investigate." 

<rNot  I!"  was  his  violent  rejoinder,  as  he  swung 
open  a  gate  concealed  in  the  vines  behind  him. 
"The  Jeffreys  would  resent  my  intrusion  if  they 
ever  happened  to  hear  of  it." 

"Indeed!"  I  laughed,  sounding  my  whistle; 
then,  soberly  enough,  for  I  was  more  than  a  little 
struck  by  the  oddity  of  his  behavior  and  thought 


I  ENTER  13 

him  as  well  worth  investigation  as  the  house  in 
which  he  showed  such  an  interest :  "You  shouldn't 
let  that  count.  Come  and  see  what's  up  in  the 
house  you  are  so  ready  to  call  yours." 

But  he  only  drew  farther  into  the  shade. 

"I  have  no  business  over  there,"  he  objected. 
"Veronica  and  I  have  never  been  on  good  terms. 
I  was  not  even  invited  to  her  wedding  though  I 
live  within  a  stone's  throw  of  the  door.  No ;  I  have 
done  my  duty  in  calling  attention  to  that  light, 
and  whether  it's  the  bull's-eye  of  a  burglar — per- 
haps you  don't  know  that  there  are  rare  treasures 
on  the  book  shelves  of  the  great  library — or 
whether  it  is  the  fantastic  illumination  which 
frightens  fool-folks  and  some  fool-dogs,  I'm  done 
with  it  and  done  with  you,  too,  for  to-night." 

As  he  said  this,  he  mounted  to  his  door  and  dis- 
appeared under  the  vines,  hanging  like  a  shroud 
over  the  front  of  the  house.  In  another  moment 
the  rich  peal  of  an  organ  sounded  from  within, 
followed  by  the  prolonged  howling  of  Rudge,  who, 
either  from  a  too  keen  appreciation  of  his  master's 
music  or  in  utter  disapproval  of  it, — no  one,  I  be- 
lieve, has  ever  been  able  to  make  out  which, — was 
accustomed  to  add  this  undesirable  accompaniment 
to  every  strain  from  the  old  man's  hand.  The  play- 
ing did  not  cease  because  of  these  outrageous  dis- 
cords. On  the  contrary,  it  increased  in  force  and 


14  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

volume,  causing  Rudge's  expression  of  pain  or 
pleasure  to  increase  also.  The  result  can  be  im- 
agined. As  I  listened  to  the  intolerable  howls  of 
the  dog  cutting  clean  through  the  exquisite  har- 
monies of  his  master,  I  wondered  if  the  shadows 
cast  by  the  frowning  structure  of  the  great  Moore 
house  were  alone  to  blame  for  Uncle  David's  lack 
of  neighbors. 

Meantime,  Hibbard,  who  was  the  first  to  hear 
my  signal,  came  running  down  the  block.  As  he 
joined  me,  the  light,  or  what  we  chose  to  call  a 
light,  appeared  again  in  the  window  toward  which 
my  attention  had  been  directed. 

"Some  one's  in  the  Moore  house !"  I  declared,  in 
as  matter-of-fact  tones  as  J  could  command. 

Hibbard  is  a  big  fellow,  the  biggest  fellow  on 
the  force,  and  so  far  as  my  own  experience  with 
him  had  gone,  as  stolid  and  imperturbable  as  the 
best  of  us.  But  after  a  quick  glance  at  the  tower- 
ing walls  of  the  lonely  building,  he  showed  decided 
embarrassment  and  seemed  in  no  haste  to  cross  the 
street. 

With  difficulty  I  concealed  my  disgust. 

"Come,"  I  cried,  stepping  down  from  the  curb, 
"let's  go  over  and  investigate.  The  property  is 
valuable,  the  furnishings  handsome,  and  there  is 
no  end  of  costly  books  on  the  library  shelves.  You 
have  matches  and  a  revolver?" 


I  ENTER  15 

He  nodded,  quietly  showing  me  first  the  one, 
then  the  other;  then  with  a  sheepish  air  which  he 
endeavored  to  carry  off  with  a  laugh,  he  cried : 

"Have  you  use  for  'em?  If  so,  I'm  quite  willing 
to  part  with  'em  for  a  half-hour." 

I  was  more  than  amazed  at  this  evidence  of  weak- 
ness in  one  1  had  always  considered  as  tough  and 
impenetrable  as  flint  rock.  Thrusting  back  the 
hand  with  which  he  had  half  drawn  into  view  the 
weapon  I  had  mentioned,  I  put  on  my  sternest 
air  and  led  the  way  across  the  street.  As  I  did  so, 
I  tossed  back  the  words : 

"We  may  come  upon  a  gang.  You  do  not  wish 
me  to  face  some  half-dozen  men  alone?" 

"You  won't  find  any  half-dozen  men  there," 
was  his  muttered  reply.  Nevertheless  he  followed 
me,  though  with  less  spirit  than  I  liked,  considering 
that  my  own  manner  was  in  a  measure  assumed 
and  that  I  was  not  without  sympathy — well,  let  me 
say,  for  a  dog  who  preferred  howling  a  dismal  ac- 
companiment to  his  master's  music,  to  keeping 
open  watch  over  a  neighborhood  dominated  by  the 
unhallowed  structure  I  now  propose  to  enter. 

The  house  is  too  well  known  for  me  to  attempt 
a  minute  description  of  it.  The  illustrations  which 
have  appeared  in  all  the  papers  have  already  ac- 
quainted the  general  public  with  its  simple  fa9ade 
and  rows  upon  rows  of  shuttered  windows.  Even 


16  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

the  great  square  porch  with  its  bench  for  negro 
attendants  has  been  photographed  for  the  million. 
Those  who  have  seen  the  picture  in  which  the 
wedding-guests  are  shown  flying  from  its  yawning 
doorway,  will  not  be  especially  interested  in  the 
quiet,  almost  solemn  aspect  it  presented  as  I  passed 
up  the  low  steps  and  laid  my  hand  upon  the  knob 
of  the  old-fashioned  front  door. 

Not  that  I  expected  to  win  an  entrance  thereby, 
but  because  it  is  my  nature  to  approach  everything 
in  a  common-sense  way.  Conceive  then  my  aston- 
ishment when  at  the  first  touch  the  door  yielded. 
It  was  not  even  latched. 

"So!  so!"  thought  I.  "This  is  no  fool's  job; 
some  one  is  in  the  house." 

I  had  provided  myself  with  an  ordinary  pocket- 
lantern,  and,  when  I  had  convinced  Hibbard  that  I 
fully  meant  to  enter  the  house  and  discover  for  my- 
self who  had  taken  advantage  of  the  popular 
prejudice  against  it  to  make  a  secret  refuge  or 
rendezvous  of  its  decayed  old  rooms,  I  took  out  this 
lantern  and  held  it  in  readiness. 

"We  may  strike  a  hornets'  nest,"  I  explained  to 
Hibbard,  whose  feet  seemed  very  heavy  even  for  a 
man  of  his  size.  "But  I'm  going  in  and  so  are  you. 
Only,  let  me  suggest  that  we  first  take  off  our 
shoes.  We  can  hide  them  in  these  bushes." 

"I  always  catch  cold  when  I  walk  barefooted," 


I  ENTER  17 

mumbled  my  brave  companion;  but  receiving  no 
reply  he  drew  off  his  shoes  and  dropped  them  be- 
side mine  in  the  cluster  of  stark  bushes  which  figure 
so  prominently  in  the  illustrations  that  I  have  just 
mentioned.  Then  he  took  out  his  revolver,  and 
cocking  it,  stood  waiting,  while  I  gave  a  cautious 
push  to  the  door. 

Darkness!  silence! 

Rather  had  I  confronted  a  light  and  heard  some 
noise,  even  if  it  had  been  the  ominous  click  to  which 
we  are  so  well  accustomed.  Hibbard  seemed  to 
share  my  feelings,  though  from  an  entirely  differ- 
ent cause. 

"Pistols  and  lanterns  are  no  good  here,"  he 
grumbled.  "What  we  want  at  this  blessed  minute 
is  a  priest  with  a  sprinkling  of  holy  water;  and  I 
for  one—" 

He  was  actually  sliding  off. 

With  a  smothered  oath  I  drew  him  back. 

"See  here !"  I  cried,  "you're  not  a  babe  in  arms. 
Come  on  or —  Well,  what  now?" 

He  had  clenched  my  arm  and  was  pointing  to 
the  door  which  was  slowly  swaying  to  behind  us. 

"Notice  that,"  he  whispered.  "No  key  in  the 
lock !  Men  use  keys  but — " 

My  patience  could  stand  no  more.  With  a  shake 
I  rid  myself  of  his  clutch,  muttering : 

"There,  go !    You're  too  much  of  a  fool  for  me. 


18  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

I'm  in  for  it  alone."  And  in  proof  of  my  determi- 
nation, I  turned  the  slide  of  the  lantern  and  flashed 
the  light  through  the  house. 

The  effect  was  ghostly ;  but  while  the  fellow  at 
my  side  breathed  hard  he  did  not  take  advantage 
of  my  words  to  make  his  escape,  as  I  half  expected 
him  to.  Perhaps,  like  myself,  he  was  fascinated 
by  the  dreary  spectacle  of  long  shadowy  walls  and 
an  equally  shadowy  staircase  emerging  from  a 
darkness  which  a  minute  before  had  seemed  im- 
penetrable. Perhaps  he  was  simply  ashamed.  At 
all  events  he  stood  his  ground,  scrutinizing  with 
rolling  eyes  that  portion  of  the  hall  where  two  col- 
umns, with  gilded  Corinthian  capitals,  marked  the 
door  of  the  room  which  no  man  entered  without 
purpose  or  passed  without  dread.  Doubtless  he 
was  thinking  of  that  which  had  so  frequently  been 
carried  out  between  those  columns.  I  know  that  I 
was;  and  when,  in  the  sudden  draft  made  by  the 
open  door,  some  open  draperies  hanging  near  those 
columns  blew  out  with  a  sudden  swoop  and  shiver,  I 
was  not  at  all  astonished  to  see  him  lose  what  little 
courage  had  remained  in  him.  The  truth  is,  I  was 
startled  myself,  but  I  was  able  to  hide  the  fact  and 
to  whisper  back  to  him,  fiercely: 

"Don't  be  an  idiot.  That  curtain  hides  nothing 
worse  than  some  sneaking  political  refugee  or  a 
gang  of  counterfeiters," 


I  ENTER  19 

"Maybe.  I'd  just  like  to  put  my  hand  on  Up- 
son  and — " 

"Hush!" 

I  had  just  heard  something. 

For  a  moment  we  stood  breathless,  but  as  the 
sound  was  not  repeated  I  concluded  that  it  was  the 
creaking  of  that  far-away  shutter.  Certainly  there 
was  nothing  moving  near  us. 

"Shall  we  go  upstairs?"  whispered  Hibbard. 

"Not  till  we  have  made  sure  that  all  is  right 
down  here." 

A  door  stood  slightly  ajar  on  our  left 

Pushing  it  open,  we  looked  in.  A  well  furnished 
parlor  was  before  us. 

"Here's  where  the  wedding  took  place,"  re- 
marked Hibbard,  straining  his  head  over  my  shoul- 
der. 

There  were  signs  of  this  wedding  on  every 
side.  Walls  and  ceilings  had  been  hung  with  gar- 
lands, and  these  still  clung  to  the  mantelpiece  and 
over  and  around  the  various  doorways.  Torn-off 
branches  and  the  remnants  of  old  bouquets, 
dropped  from  the  hands  of  flying  guests,  littered 
the  carpet,  adding  to  the  general  confusion  of 
overturned  chairs  and  tables.  Everywhere  were 
evidences  of  the  haste  with  which  the  place  had 
been  vacated  as  well  as  the  superstitious  dread 
which  had  prevented  it  being  re-entered  for  the 


20  THE   FILIGREE    BALL 

commonplace  purpose  of  cleaning.  Even  the 
piano  had  not  been  shut,  and  under  it  lay  some 
scattered  sheets  of  music  which  had  been  left 
where  they  fell,  to  the  probable  loss  of  some  poor 
musician.  The  clock  occupying  the  center  of  the 
mantelpiece  alone  gave  evidence  of  life.  It  had 
been  wound  for  the  wedding  and  had  not  yet  run 
down.  Its  tick-tick  came  faint  enough,  however, 
through  the  darkness,  as  if  it  too  had  lost  heart 
and  would  soon  lapse  into  the  deadly  quiet  of  its 
ghostly  surroundings. 

"It's— it's  funeral-like,"  chattered  Hibbard. 

He  was  right ;  I  felt  as  if  I  were  shutting  the  lid 
of  a  coffin  when  I  finally  closed  the  door. 

Our  next  steps  took  us  into  the  rear  where  we 
found  little  to  detain  us,  and  then,  with  a  certain 
dread  fully  justified  by  the  event,  we  made  for  the 
door  defined  by  the  two  Corinthian  columns. 

It  was  ajar  like  the  rest,  and,  call  me  coward  or 
call  me  fool — I  have  called  Hibbard  both,  you  will 
remember — I  found  that  it  cost  me  an  effort  to  lay 
my  hand  on  its  mahogany  panels.  Danger,  if  dan- 
ger there  was,  lurked  here;  and  while  I  had  never 
known  myself  to  quail  before  any  ordinary  antago- 
nist, I,  like  others  of  my  kind,  have  no  especial 
fondness  for  unseen  and  mysterious  perils. 

Hibbard,  who  up  to  this  point  had  followed  me 
almost  too  closely,  now  accorded  me  all  the  room 


I  ENTER  21 

that  was  necessary.  It  was  with  a  sense  of  en- 
tering alone  upon  the  scene  that  I  finally  thrust 
wide  the  door  and  crossed  the  threshold  of  this  re- 
doubtable room  where,  but  two  short  weeks  before, 
a  fresh  victim  had  been  added  to  the  list  of  those 
who  had  by  some  unheard-of,  unimaginable  means 
found  their  death  within  its  recesses. 

My  first  glance  showed  me  little  save  the  ponder- 
ous outlines  of  an  old  settle,  which  jutted  from  the 
corner  of  the  fireplace  half  way  out  into  the  room. 
As  it  was  seemingly  from  this  seat  that  the  men, 
who  at  various  times  had  been  found  lying  here, 
had  fallen  to  their  doom,  a  thrill  passed  over  me 
as  I  noted  its  unwieldy  bulk  and  the  deep  shadow 
it  threw  on  the  ancient  and  dishonored  hearthstone. 
To  escape  the  ghastly  memories  it  evoked  and  also 
to  satisfy  myself  that  the  room  was  really  as  empty 
as  it  seemed,  I  took  another  step  forward.  This 
caused  the  light  from  the  lantern  I  carried  to 
spread  beyond  the  point  on  which  it  had  hitherto 
been  so  effectively  concentrated ;  but  the  result  was 
to  emphasize  rather  than  detract  from  the  extreme 
desolation  of  the  great  room.  The  settle  was  a  fix- 
ture, as  I  afterwards  found,  and  was  almost  the 
only  article  of  furniture  to  be  seen  on  the  wide  ex- 
panse of  uncarpeted  floor.  There  was  a  table  or 
two  in  hiding  somewhere  amid  the  shadows  at  the 
other  end  from  where  I  stood,  and  possibly  some 


22  THE   FILIGREE    BALL 

kind  of  stool  or  settee ;  but  the  general  impression 
made  upon  me  was  that  of  a  completely  dismantled 
place  given  over  to  moth  and  rust. 

I  do  not  include  the  walls.  They  were  not  bare 
like  the  floor,  but  covered  with  books  from  floor  to 
ceiling.  These  books  were  not  the  books  of  to-day ; 
they  had  stood  so  long  in  their  places  unnoted 
and  untouched,  that  they  had  acquired  the  color 
of  fungus,  and  smelt —  Well,  there  is  no  use  add- 
ing to  the  picture.  Every  one  knows  the  spirit  of 
sickening  desolation  pervading  rooms  which  have 
been  shut  up  for  an  indefinite  length  of  time  from 
air  and  sunshine. 

The  elegance  of  the  heavily  stuccoed  ceiling, 
admitted  to  be  one  of  the  finest  specimens  of  its 
kind  in  Washington,  as  well  as  the  richness  of  the 
carvings  ornamenting  the  mantel  of  Italian  mar- 
ble rising  above  the  accursed  hearthstone,  only 
served  to  make  more  evident  the  extreme  neg- 
lect into  which  the  rest  of  the  room  had  sunk. 
Being  anything  but  anxious  to  subject  myself 
further  to  its  unhappy  influence  and  quite  con- 
vinced that  the  place  was  indeed  as  empty  as  it 
looked,  I  turned  to  leave,  when  my  eyes  fell  upon 
something  so  unexpected  and  so  extraordinary, 
seen  as  it  was  under  the  influence  of  the  old  trage- 
dies with  which  my  mind  was  necessarily  full,  that 
I  paused,  balked  in  my  advance,  and  well-nigh  un- 


I  ENTER  23 

certain  whether  I  looked  upon  a  real  thing  or  on 
some  strange  and  terrible  fantasy  of  my  aroused 
imagination. 

A  form  lay  before  me,  outstretched  on  that  por- 
tion of  the  floor  which  had  hitherto  been  hidden 
from  me  by  the  half-open  door — a  woman's  form, 
which  even  in  that  first  casual  look  impressed  itself 
upon  me  as  one  of  aerial  delicacy  and  extreme  re- 
finement; and  this  form  lay  as  only  the  dead  lie; 
the  dead!  And  I  had  been  looking  at  the  hearth- 
stone for  just  such  a  picture!  No,  not  just  such 
a  picture,  for  this  woman  lay  face  uppermost,  and, 
on  the  floor  beside  her  was  blood — 

A  hand  had  plucked  my  sleeve.  It  was  Hib- 
bard's.  Startled  by  my  immobility  and  silence,  he 
had  stepped  in  with  quaking  members,  expecting  he 
hardly  knew  what.  But  no  sooner  did  his  eyes  fall 
on  the  prostrate  form  which  held  me  spellbound, 
than  an  unforeseen  change  took  place  in  him. 
What  had  unnerved  me,  restored  him  to  full 
self-possession.  Death  in  this  shape  was  familiar 
to  him.  He  had  no  fear  of  blood.  He  did  not 
show  surprise  at  encountering  it,  but  only  at  the 
effect  it  appeared  to  produce  on  me. 

"Shot !"  was  his  laconic  comment  as  he  bent  over 
the  prostrate  body.  "Shot  through  the  heart! 
She  must  have  died  before  she  fell." 

Shot! 


24  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

That  was  a  new  experience  for  this  room.  No 
wound  had  ever  before  disfigured  those  who  had 
fallen  here,  nor  had  any  of  the  previous  victims 
been  found  lying  on  any  other  spot  than  the  one 
over  which  that  huge  settle  kept  guard.  As  these 
thoughts  crossed  my  mind,  I  instinctively  glanced 
again  toward  the  fireplace  for  what  I  almost  re- 
fused to  believe  lay  outstretched  at  my  feet. 
When  nothing  more  appeared  there  than  that  old 
seat  of  sinister  memory,  I  experienced  a  thrill 
which  poorly  prepared  me  for  the  cry  which  I  now 
heard  raised  by  Hibbard. 

"Look  here !    What  do  you  make  of  this  ?" 

He  was  pointing  to  what,  upon  closer  inspection, 
proved  to  be  a  strip  of  white  satin  ribbon  running 
from  one  of  the  delicate  wrists  of  the  girl  before  us 
to  the  handle  of  a  pistol  which  had  fallen  not  far 
away  from  her  side.  "It  looks  as  if  the  pistol  was 
attached  to  her.  That  is  something  new  in  my 
experience.  What  do  you  think  it  means?" 

Alas !  there  was  but  one  thing  it  could  mean.  The 
shot  to  which  she  had  succumbed  had  been  delivered 
by  herself.  This  fair  and  delicate  creature  was  a 
suicide. 

But  suicide  in  this  place !  How  could  we  account 
for  that  ?  Had  the  story  of  this  room's  ill-acquired 
fame  acted  hypnotically  on  her,  or  had  she  stum- 
bled upon  the  open  door  in  front  and  been  glad  of 


I  ENTER  25 

any  refuge  where  her  misery  might  find  a  solitary 
termination?  Closely  scanning  her  upturned  face, 
I  sought  an  answer  to  this  question,  and  while  thus 
seeking  received  a  fresh  shock  which  I  did  not 
hesitate  to  communicate  to  my  now  none-too-sensi- 
tive companion. 

"Look  at  these  features,"  I  cried.  "I  seem  to 
know  them,  do  you?" 

He  growled  out  a  dissent,  but  stooped  at  my 
bidding  and  gave  the  pitiful  young  face  a  pro- 
longed stare.  When  he  looked  up  again  it  was  with 
a  puzzled  contraction  of  his  eyebrows. 

"I've  certainly  seen  it  somewhere,"  he  hesitating- 
ly admitted,  edging  slowly  away  toward  the  door. 
"Perhaps  in  the  papers.  Isn't  she  like—  ?" 

"Like!"  I  interrupted,  "it  is  Veronica  Moore 
herself;  the  owner  of  this  house  and  she  who  was 
married  here  two  weeks  since  to  Mr.  Jeffrey.  Evi- 
dently her  reason  was  unseated  by  the  tragedy 
which  threw  so  deep  a  gloom  over  her  wedding." 


m 

I  BEMAIN 

Not  for  an  instant  did  I  doubt  the  correctness  of 
this  identification.  All  the  pictures  I  had  seen  of 
this  well-known  society  belle  had  been  marked  by 
an  individuality  of  expression  which  fixed  her  face 
in  the  memory  and  which  I  now  saw  repeated  in  the 
lifeless  features  before  me. 

Greatly  startled  by  the  discovery,  but  quite  con- 
vinced that  this  was  but  the  dreadful  sequel  of  an 
already  sufficiently  dark  tragedy,  I  proceeded  to 
take  such  steps  as  are  common  in  these  cases. 
Having  sent  the  too-willing  Hibbard  to  notify 
headquarters,  I  was  on  the  point  of  making  a  mem- 
orandum of  such  details  as  seemed  important,  when 
my  lantern  suddenly  went  out,  leaving  me  in  total 
darkness. 

This  was  far  from  pleasant,  but  the  effect  it  pro- 
duced upon  my  mind  was  not  without  its  result. 
For  no  sooner  did  I  find  myself  alone  and  in  the 
unrelieved  darkness  of  this  grave-like  room,  than 
I  became  convinced  that  no  woman,  however  fren- 
26 


I  REMAIN  27 

zied,  would  make  her  plunge  into  an  unknown 
existence  from  the  midst  of  a  darkness  only  too 
suggestive  of  the  tomb  to  which  she  was  hastening. 
It  was  not  in  nature,  not  in  woman's  nature,  at  all 
events.  Either  she  had  committed  the  final  act  be- 
fore such  daylight  as  could  filter  through  the  shut- 
ters of  this  closed-up  room  had  quite  disappeared, 
— an  hypothesis  instantly  destroyed  by  the 
warmth  which  still  lingered  in  certain  portions  of 
her  body, — or  else  the  light  which  had  been  burn- 
ing when  she  pulled  the  fatal  trigger  had  since 
been  carried  elsewhere  or  extinguished. 

Recalling  the  uncertain  gleams  which  we  had 
seen  flashing  from  one  of  the  upper  windows,  I  was 
inclined  to  give  some  credence  to  the  former  theory, 
but  was  disposed  to  be  fair  to  both.  So  after  re- 
lighting my  lamp,  I  turned  on  one  of  the  gas  cocks 
of  the  massive  chandelier  over  my  head  and  applied 
a  match.  The  result  was  just  what  I  anticipated; 
no  gas  in  the  pipes.  A  meter  had  not  been  put 
in  for  the  wedding.  This  the  papers  had  repeated- 
ly stated  in  dwelling  upon  the  garish  effect  of 
the  daylight  on  the  elaborate  costumes  worn  by 
the  ladies.  Candles  had  not  even  been  provided — 
ah,  candles !  What,  then,  was  it  that  I  saw  glitter- 
ing on  a  small  table  at  the  other  end  of  the  room? 
Surely  a  candlestick,  or  rather  an  old-fashioned 
candelabrum  with  a  half-burned  candle  in  one  of  its 


28  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

sockets.  Hastily  crossing  to  it,  I  felt  of  the  candle- 
wick.  It  was  quite  stiff  and  hard.  But  not  con- 
sidering this  a  satisfactory  proof  that  it  had  not 
been  lately  burning — the  tip  of  a  wick  soon  dries 
after  the  flame  is  blown  out — I  took  out  my  pen- 
knife and  attacked  the  wick  at  what  might  be 
called  its  root;  whereupon  I  found  that  where  the 
threads  had  been  protected  by  the  wax  they  were 
comparatively  soft  and  penetrable. 

The  conclusion  was  obvious.  True  to  my  instinct 
in  this  matter  the  woman  had  not  lifted  her  weapon 
in  darkness;  this  candle  had  been  burning.  But 
here  my  thoughts  received  a  fresh  shock.  If  burn- 
ing, then  by  whom  had  it  since  been  blown  out? 
Not  by  her;  her  wound  was  too  fatally  sure  for 
that.  The  steps  taken  between  the  table  where  the 
candelabrum  stood  and  the  place  where  she  lay, 
were  taken,  if  taken  at  all  by  her,  before  that  shot 
was  fired.  Some  one  else — some  one  whose  breath 
still  lingered  in  the  air  about  me — had  extinguished 
this  candle-flame  after  she  fell,  and  the  death  I 
looked  down  upon  was  not  a  suicide,  but  a  murder! 

The  excitement  which  this  discovery  caused  to 
tingle  through  my  every  nerve  had  its  birth  in  the 
ambitious  feeling  referred  to  in  the  opening  para- 
graph of  this  narrative.  I  believed  that  my  long- 
sought-for  opportunity  had  come;  that  with  the 
start  given  me  by  the  conviction  just  stated,  I 


I  REMAIN  29 

should  be  enabled  to  collect  such  clues  and  establish 
such  facts  as  would  lead  to  the  acceptance  of  this 
new  theory  instead  of  the  apparent  one  of  suicide 
embraced  by  Hibbard  and  about  to  be  promulgated 
at  police  headquarters.  If  so,  what  a  triumph 
would  be  mine ;  and  what  a  debt  I  should  owe  to  the 
crabbed  old  gentleman  whose  seemingly  fantastic 
fears  had  first  drawn  me  to  this  place ! 

Realizing  the  value  of  the  opportunity  afforded 
me  by  the  few  minutes  I  was  likely  to  spend  alone 
on  this  scene  of  crime,  I  proceeded  to  my  task 
with  that  directness  and  method  which  I  had  al- 
ways promised  myself  should  characterize  my  first 
success  in  detective  work. 

First,  then,  for  another  look  at  the  fair  young 
victim  herself !  What  a  line  of  misery  on  the  brow ! 
What  dark  hollows  disfiguring  cheeks  otherwise  as 
delicate  as  the  petals  of  a  rose!  An  interesting, 
if  not  absolutely  beautiful  face,  it  told  me  some- 
thing I  could  hardly  put  into  words ;  so  that  it  was 
like  leaving  a  fascinating  but  unsolved  mystery 
when  I  finally  turned  from  it  to  study  the  hands, 
each  of  which  presented  a  separate  problem.  That 
offered  by  the  right  wrist  you  already  know — 
the  long  white  ribbon  connecting  it  with  the  dis- 
charged pistol.  But  the  secret  concealed  by  the 
left,  while  less  startling,  was  perhaps  fully  as  sig- 
nificant. All  the  rings  were  gone,  even  the  wedding 


SO  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

ring  which  had  been  placed  there  such  a  short  time 
before.  Had  she  been  robbed?  There  were  no  signs 
of  violence  visible  nor  even  such  disturbances  as  us- 
ually follow  despoliation  by  a  criminal's  hand.  The 
boa  of  delicate  black  net  which  encircled  her  neck 
rose  fresh  and  intact  to  her  chin ;  nor  did  the  heavy 
folds  of  her  rich  broadcloth  gown  betray  that  any 
disturbance  had  taken  place  in  her  figure  after  its 
fall.  If  a  jewel  had  flashed  at  her  throat,  or  ear- 
rings adorned  her  ears,  they  had  been  removed  by 
a  careful,  if  not  a  loving,  hand.  But  I  was  rather 
inclined  to  think  that  she  had  entered  upon  the 
scene  of  her  death  without  ornaments, — such  se- 
vere simplicity  marked  her  whole  attire. 

Her  hat,  which  was  as  plain  and  also  as  elegant 
as  the  rest  of  her  clothing,  lay  near  her  on  the  floor. 
It  had  been  taken  off  and  thrown  down,  manifestly 
by  an  impatient  hand.  That  this  hand  was  her  own 
was  evident  from  a  small  but  very  significant  fact. 
The  pin  which  had  held  it  to  her  hair  had  been 
thrust  again  into  the  hat.  No  hand  but  hers  would 
have  taken  this  precaution.  A  man  would  have 
flung  it  aside  just  as  he  would  have  flung  the  hat. 

Question : 

Did  this  argue  a  natural  expectation  on  her  part 
of  resuming  her  hat?  Or  was  the  action  the  result 
of  an  unconscious  habit? 

Having  thus  noted  all  that  was  possible  concern- 


I  REMAIN  31 

ing  her  without  infringing  on  the  rights  of  the 
coroner,  I  next  proceeded  to  cast  about  for  clues  to 
the  identity  of  the  person  whom  I  considered  re- 
sponsible for  the  extinguished  candle.  But  here  a 
great  disappointment  awaited  me.  I  could  find  noth- 
ing expressive  of  a  second  person's  presence  save  a 
pile  of  cigar  ashes  scattered  near  the  legs  of  a  com- 
mon kitchen  chair  which  stood  face  to  face  with  the 
book  shelves  in  that  part  of  the  room  where  the 
candelabrum  rested  on  a  small  table.  But  these 
ashes  looked  old,  nor  could  I  detect  any  evidence 
of  tobacco  smoke  in  the  general  mustiness  pervad- 
ing the  place.  Was  the  man  who  died  here  a  fort- 
night since  accountable  for  these  ashes?  If  so,  his 
unfinished  cigar  must  be  within  sight.  Should  I 
search  for  it?  No,  for  this  would  take  me  to  the 
hearth  and  that  was  quite  too  deadly  a  place  to  be 
heedlessly  approached. 

Besides,  I  was  not  yet  finished  with  the  spot  where 
I  then  stood.  If  I  could  gather  nothing  satisfac- 
tory from  the  ashes,  perhaps  I  could  from  the  chair 
or  the  shelves  before  which  it  had  been  placed. 
Some  one  with  an  interest  in  books  had  sat  there; 
some  one  who  expected  to  spend  sufficient  time  over 
these  old  tomes  to  feel  the  need  of  a  chair.  Had 
this  interest  been  a  general  one  or  had  it  centered  in 
a  particular  volume  ?  I  ran  my  eye  over  the  shelves 
within  reach,  possibly  with  an  idea  of  settling  this 


32  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

question,  and  though  my  knowledge  of  books  is 
limited  I  could  see  that  these  were  what  one  might 
call  rarities.  Some  of  them  contained  specimens 
of  black  letter,  all  moldy  and  smothered  in  dust; 
in  others  I  saw  dates  of  publication  which 
placed  them  among  volumes  dear  to  a  collector's 
heart.  But  none  of  them,  so  far  as  I  could  see,  gave 
any  evidence  of  having  been  lately  handled;  and 
anxious  to  waste  no  time  on  puerile  details,  I  hastily 
quitted  my  chair,  and  was  proceeding  to  turn  my 
attention  elsewhere,  when  I  noticed  on  an  upper 
shelf,  a  book  projecting  slightly  beyond  the  others. 
Instantly  my  foot  was  on  the  chair  and  the  book  in 
my  hand.  Did  I  find  it  of  interest?  Yes,  but  not 
on  account  of  its  contents,  for  they  were  pure  Greek 
to  me ;  but  because  it  lacked  the  dust  on  its  upper 
edge  which  had  marked  every  other  volume  I  had 
handled.  This,  then,  was  what  had  attracted  the 
unknown  to  these  shelves,  this — let  me  see  if  I  can 
remember  its  title — Disquisition  upon  Old  Coast- 
lines. Pshaw!  I  was  wasting  my  time.  What 
had  such  a  dry  compendium  as  this  to  do  with  the 
body  lying  in  its  blood  a  few  steps  behind  me,  or 
with  the  hand  which  had  put  out  the  candle  upon 
this  dreadful  deed?  Nothing.  I  replaced  the 
book,  but  not  so  hastily  as  to  push  it  one  inch  be- 
yond the  position  in  which  I  found  it.  For,  if  it 
had  a  tale  to  tell,  then  was  it  my  business  to  leave 


I  REMAIN  S3 

that  tale  to  be  read  by  those  who  understood  books 
better  than  I  did. 

My  next  move  was  toward  the  little  table  holding 
the  candelabrum  with  the  glittering  pendants.  This 
table  was  one  of  a  nest  standing  against  a  near-by 
wall.  Investigation  proved  that  it  had  been 
lifted  from  the  others  and  brought  to  its  present 
position  within  a  very  short  space  of  time.  For 
the  dust  lying  thick  on  its  top  was  almost  entirely 
lacking  from  the  one  which  had  been  nested  under 
it.  Neither  had  the  candelabrum  been  standing 
there  long,  dust  being  found  under  as  well  as 
around  it.  Had  her  hand  brought  it  there? 
Hardly,  if  it  came  from  the  top  of  the  mantel 
toward  which  I  now  turned  in  my  course  of  investi- 
gation. 

I  have  already  mentioned  this  mantel  more  than 
once.  This  I  could  hardly  avoid,  since  in  and  about 
it  lay  the  heart  of  the  mystery  for  which  the  room 
was  remarkable.  But  though  I  have  thus  freely 
spoken  of  it,  and  though  it  was  not  absent  from 
my  thoughts  for  a  moment,  I  had  not  ventured  to 
approach  it  beyond  a  certain  safe  radius.  Now,  in 
looking  to  see  if  I  might  not  lessen  this  radius, 
I  experienced  that  sudden  and  overwhelming  inter- 
est in  its  every  feature  which  attaches  to  all  ob- 
jects peculiarly  associated  with  danger. 

I  even  took  a  step  toward  it,  holding  up  my 


34  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

lamp  so  that  a  stray  ray  struck  the  faded  surface 
of  an  old  engraving  hanging  over  the  fireplace. 
It  was  the  well-known  one — in  Washington  at 
least — of  Benjamin  Franklin  at  the  Court  of 
France;  interesting  no  doubt  in  a  general  way, 
but  scarcely  calculated  to  hold  the  eye  at  so  critical 
an  instant.  Neither  did  the  shelf  below  call  for 
more  than  momentary  attention,  for  it  was  absolute- 
ly bare.  So  was  the  time-worn,  if  not  blood-stained 
hearth,  save  for  the  impenetrable  shadow  cast  over 
it  by  the  huge  bulk  of  the  great  settle  standing 
at  its  edge. 

I  have  already  described  the  impression  made 
on  me  at  my  first  entrance  by  this  ancient  and 
characteristic  article  of  furniture. 

It  was  intensified  now  as  my  eye  ran  over  the 
clumsy  carving  which  added  to  the  discomfort  of 
its  high  straight  back  and  as  I  smelt  the  smell  of  its 
moldy  and  possibly  mouse-haunted  cushions.  A 
crawling  sense  of  dread  took  the  place  of  my  first 
instinctive  repugnance;  not  because  superstition 
had  as  yet  laid  its  grip  upon  me,  although  the 
place,  the  hour  and  the  near  and  veritable  presence 
of  death  were  enough  to  rouse  the  imagination 
past  the  bounds  of  the  actual,  but  because  of  a  dis- 
covery r  had  made — a  discovery  which  emphasized 
the  tradition  that  all  who  had  been  found  dead 
under  the  mantel  had  fallen  as  if  from  the  end  of 


I  REMAIN  35 

this  monstrous  and  patriarchal  bench.  Do  you  ask 
what  this  discovery  was?  It  can  be  told  in  a 
word.  This  one  end  and  only  this  end  had  been 
made  comfortable  for  the  sitter.  For  a  space 
scarcely  wide  enough  for  one,  the  seat  and  back  at 
this  special  point  had  been  upholstered  with  leath- 
er, fastened  to  the  wood  with  heavy  wrought  nails. 
The  remaining  portion  stretched  out  bare,  hard  and 
inexpressibly  forbidding  to  one  who  sought  ease 
there,  or  even  a  moment  of  casual  rest.  The  natural 
inference  was  that  the  owner  of  this  quaint  piece 
of  furniture  had  been  a  very  selfish  man  who 
thought  only  of  his  own  comfort.  But  might  he 
not  have  had  some  other  reason  for  his  apparent 
niggardliness?  As  I  asked  myself  this  question 
and  noted  how  the  long  and  embracing  arm  which 
guarded  this  cushioned  retreat  was  flattened  on  top 
for  the  convenient  holding  of  decanter  and  glass, 
feelings  to  which  I  can  give  no  name  and  which 
I  had  fondly  believed  myself  proof  against,  began 
to  take  the  place  of  judgment  and  reason.  Be- 
fore I  realized  the  nature  of  my  own  impulse  or 
to  what  it  was  driving  me,  I  found  myself  moving 
slowly  and  steadily  toward  this  formidable  seat, 
under  an  irresistible  desire  to  fling  myself  down 
upon  these  old  cushions  and — 

But  here  the  creaking  of  some  far-off  shutter — 
possibly  the  one  I  had  seen  swaying  from  the  op- 


36  THE   FILIGREE    BALL 

posite  side  of  the  street — recalled  me  to  the  duties 
of  the  hour,  and,  remembering  that  my  investiga- 
tions were  but  half  completed  and  that  I  might 
be  interrupted  any  moment  by  detectives  from 
headquarters,  I  broke  from  the  accursed  charm, 
which  horrified  me  the  moment  I  escaped  it,  and 
quitting  the  room  by  a  door  at  the  farther  end, 
sought  to  find  in  some  of  the  adjacent  rooms  the 
definite  traces  I  had  failed  to  discover  on  this,  the 
actual  scene  of  the  crime. 

It  was  a  dismal  search,  revealing  at  every  turn 
the  almost  maddened  haste  with  which  the  house 
had  been  abandoned.  The  dining-room  especially 
roused  feelings  which  were  far  from  pleasant.  The 
table,  evidently  set  for  the  wedding  breakfast,  had 
been  denuded  in  such  breathless  hurry  that  the 
food  had  been  tossed  from  the  dishes  and  now  lay 
in  moldering  heaps  on  the  floor.  The  wedding 
cake,  which  some  one  had  dropped,  possibly  in  the 
effort  to  save  it,  had  been  stepped  on ;  and  broken 
glass,  crumpled  napery  and  withered  flowers 
made  all  the  corners  unsightly  and  rendered 
stepping  over  the  unwholesome  floors  at  once  dis- 
gusting and  dangerous.  The  pantries  opening  out 
of  this  room  were  in  no  better  case.  Shrinking 
from  the  sights  and  smells  I  found  there,  I  passed 
out  into  the  kitchen  and  so  on  by  a  close  and  nar- 


I  REMAIN  37 

row  passage  to  the  negro  quarters  clustered  in  the 
rear. 

Here  I  made  a  discovery.  One  of  the  windows 
in  this  long  disused  portion  of  the  house  was  not 
only  unlocked  but  partly  open.  But  as  I  came  upon 
no  marks  showing  that  this  outlet  had  been  used  by 
the  escaping  murderer,  I  made  my  way  back  to  the 
front  of  the  house  and  thus  to  the  stairs  communi- 
cating with  the  upper  floor. 

It  was  on  the  rug  lying  at  the  foot  of  these  stairs 
that  I  came  upon  the  first  of  a  dozen  or  more 
burned  matches  which  lay  in  a  distinct  trail  up  the 
staircase  and  along  the  floors  of  the  upper  halls. 
As  these  matches  were  all  burned  as  short  as  fingers 
could  hold  them,  it  was  evident  that  they  had  been 
used  to  light  the  steps  of  some  one  seeking  refuge 
above,  possibly  in  the  very  room  where  we  had  seen 
the  light  which  had  first  drawn  us  to  this  house. 
How  then?  Should  I  proceed  or  await  the  coming 
of  the  "boys"  before  pushing  in  upon  a  possible 
murderer?  I  decided  to  proceed,  fascinated,  I 
think,  by  the  nicety  of  the  trail  which  lay  before 
me. 

But  when,  after  a  careful  following  in  the  steps 
of  him  who  had  so  lately  preceded  me,  I  came  upon 
a  tightly  closed  door  at  the  end  of  a  side  passage, 
I  own  that  I  stopped  a  moment  before  lifting  hand 


38  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

to  it.  So  much  may  lie  behind  a  tightly  closed 
door !  But  my  hesitation,  if  hesitation  it  was,  lasted 
but  a  moment.  My  natural  impatience  and  the 
promptings  of  my  vanity  overcame  the  dictates 
of  my  judgment,  and,  reckless  of  consequences, 
perhaps  disdainful  of  them,  I  soon  had  the  knob  in 
my  grasp.  I  gave  a  slight  push  to  the  door  and, 
on  seeing  a  crack  of  light  leap  into  life  along  the 
jamb,  pushed  the  door  wider  and  wider  till  the 
whole  room  stood  revealed. 

The  instantaneous  banging  of  a  shutter  in  one  of 
its  windows  proved  the  room  to  be  the  very  one 
which  we  had  seen  lighted  from  below.  Otherwise 
all  was  still;  nor  was  I  able  to  detect,  in  my  first 
hurried  glance,  any  other  token  of  human  presence 
than  a  candle  sputtering  in  its  own  grease  at  the 
bottom  of  a  tumbler  placed  on  one  corner  of  an 
old-fashioned  dressing  table.  This,  the  one  touch 
of  incongruity  in  a  room  otherwise  rich  if  not 
stately  in  its  appointments,  was  loud  in  its  sugges- 
tion of  some  hidden  presence  given  to  expedients 
and  reckless  of  consequences;  but  of  this  presence 
nothing  was  to  be  seen. 

Not  satisfied  with  this  short  survey, — a  survey 
which  had  given  me  the  impression  of  a  spacious 
old-fashioned  chamber,  fully  furnished  but  breath- 
ing of  the  by-gone  rather  than  of  the  present — 
and  resolved  to  know  the  worst,  or,  rather,  to  dare 


I  REMAIN  39 

the  worst  and  be  done  with  it,  I  strode  straight 
into  the  center  of  the  room  and  cast  about  me 
quickly  a  comprehensive  glance  which  spared 
nothing,  not  even  the  shadows  lurking  in  the  cor- 
ners. But  no  low-lying  figure  started  up  from 
those  corners,  nor  did  any  crouching  head  rise 
into  sight  from  beyond  the  leaves  of  the  big  screen 
behind  which  I  was  careful  to  look. 

Greatly  reassured,  and  indeed  quite  convinced 
that  wherever  the  criminal  lurked  at  that  moment 
he  was  not  in  the  same  room  with  me,  I  turned  my 
attention  to  my  surroundings,  which  had  many 
points  of  interest.  Foremost  among  these  was  the 
big  four-poster  which  occupied  a  large  space  at  my 
right.  I  had  never  seen  its  like  in  use  before,  and 
I  was  greatly  attracted  by  its  size  and  the  air  of 
mystery  imparted  to  it  by  its  closely  drawn  cur- 
tains of  faded  brocade.  In  fact,  this  bed,  whether 
from  its  appearance  or  some  occult  influence  in- 
herent in  it,  had  a  fascination  for  me.  I  hesitated 
to  approach  it,  yet  could  not  forbear  surveying  it 
long  and  earnestly.  Could  it  be  possible  that  those 
curtains  concealed  some  one  in  hiding  behind  them? 
Strange  to  say  I  did  not  feel  quite  ready  to  lay 
hand  on  them  and  see. 

A  dressing  table  laden  with  woman's  fixings  and 
various  articles  of  the  toilet,  all  of  an  unexpected 
value  and  richness,  occupied  the  space  between  the 


40  THE   FILIGREE   BALL 

two  windows ;  and  on  the  floor,  immediately  in  front 
of  a  high  mahogany  mantel,  there  lay,  amid  a  num- 
ber of  empty  boxes,  an  overturned  chair.  This 
chair  and  the  conjectures  its  position  awakened  led 
me  to  look  up  at  the  mantel  with  which  it  seemed 
to  be  in  some  way  connected,  and  thus  I  became 
aware  of  a  wan  old  drawing  hanging  on  the  wall 
above  it.  Why  this  picture,  which  was  a  totally  un- 
interesting sketch  of  a  simpering  girl  face,  should 
have  held  my  eye  after  the  first  glance,  I  can  not 
say  even  now.  It  had  no  beauty  even  of  the  senti- 
mental kind  and  very  little,  if  any,  meaning.  Its 
lines,  weak  at  the  best,  were  nearly  obliterated  and 
in  some  places  quite  faded  out.  Yet  I  not  only 
paused  to  look  at  it,  but  in  looking  at  it  forgot 
myself  and  well-nigh  my  errand.  Yet  there  was  no 
apparent  reason  for  the  spell  it  exerted  over  me, 
nor  could  I  account  in  any  way  for  the  really  su- 
perstitious dread  which  from  this  moment  seized  me, 
making  my  head  move  slowly  round  with  shrinking 
backward  looks  as  that  swaying  shutter  creaked 
or  some  of  the  fitful  noises,  which  grow  out  of 
silence  in  answer  to  our  inner  expectancy,  drew 
rny  attention  or  appalled  my  sense. 

To  all  appearance  there  was  less  here  than  below 
to  affect  a  man's  courage.  No  inanimate  body 
with  the  mark  of  the  slayer  upon  it  lent  horror  to 
these  walls ;  yet  sensations  which  I  had  easily  over- 


I  REMAIN  41 

come  in  the  library  below  clung  with  strange  in- 
sistence to  me  here,  making  it  an  effort  for  me  to 
move,  and  giving  to  the  unexpected  reflection  of 
my  own  image  in  the  mirror  I  chanced  to  pass,  a 
power  to  shock  my  nerves  which  has  never  been 
repeated  in  my  experience. 

It  may  seem  both  unnecessary  and  out  of  char- 
acter for  a  man  of  my  calling  to  acknowledge 
these  chance  sensations,  but  only  by  doing  so  can 
I  account  for  the  minutes  which  elapsed  before  I 
summoned  sufficient  self-possession  to  draw  aside 
the  closed  curtains  of  the  bed  and  take  the  quick 
look  inside  which  my  present  doubtful  position  de- 
manded. But  once  I  had  broken  the  spell  and  taken 
the  look  just  mentioned,  I  found  my  manhood 
return  and  with  it  my  old  ardor  for  clues.  The 
bed  held  no  gaping,  chattering  criminal;  yet  was 
it  not  quite  empty.  Something  lay  there,  and  this 
something,  while  commonplace  in  itself,  was  enough 
out  of  keeping  with  the  place  and  hour  to  rouse 
my  interest  and  awaken  my  conjectures.  It  was 
a  lady's  wrap  so  rich  in  quality  and  of  such  a 
festive  appearance  that  it  was  astonishing  to  find 
it  lying  in  a  neglected  state  in  this  crumbling  old 
house.  Though  I  know  little  of  the  cost  of  wom- 
en's garments,  I  do  know  the  value  of  lace,  and 
this  garment  was  covered  with  it. 

Interesting  as  was  this  find,  it  was  followed  by 


'42  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

one  still  more  so.  Nestled  in  the  folds  of  the  cloak, 
lay  the  withered  remains  of  what  could  only  have 
been  the  bridal  bouquet.  Unsightly  now  and  scent- 
less, it  was  once  a  beautiful  specimen  of  the  florist's 
art.  As  I  noted  how  the  main  bunch  of  roses 
and  lilies  was  connected  by  long  satin  ribbons  to 
the  lesser  clusters  which  hung  from  it,  I  recalled 
with  conceivable  horror  the  use  to  which  a  similar 
ribbon  had  been  put  in  the  room  below.  In  the 
shudder  called  up  by  this  coincidence  I  forgot  to 
speculate  how  a  bouquet  carried  by  the  bride 
could  have  found  its  way  back  to  this  upstairs 
room  when,  as  all  accounts  agree,  she  had  fled 
from  the  parlor  below  without  speaking  or  staying 
foot  the  moment  she  was  told  of  the  catastrophe 
which  had  taken  place  in  the  library.  That  her 
wrap  should  be  lying  here  was  not  strange,  but 
that  the  wedding  bouquet — 

That  it  really  was  the  wedding  bouquet  and  that 
this  was  the  room  in  which  the  bride  had  dressed 
for  the  ceremony  was  apparent  to  the  most  casual 
observer.  But  it  became  an  established  fact  when 
in  my  further  course  about  the  room  I  chanced  on 
a  handkerchief  with  the  name  Veronica  embroid- 
ered in  one  corner. 

This  handkerchief  had  an  interest  apart  from  the 
name  on  it.  It  was  of  dainty  texture  and  quite  in 
keeping,  so  far  as  value  went,  with  the  other  belong- 


I  REMAIN  43 

ings  of  its  fastidious  owner.  But  it  was  not  clean. 
Indeed  it  was  strangely  soiled,  and  this  soil  was  of 
a  nature  I  did  not  readily  understand.  A  woman 
would  doubtless  have  comprehended  immediately 
the  cause  of  the  brown  streaks  I  found  on  it,  but  it 
took  me  several  minutes  to  realize  that  this  bit  of 
cambric,  delicate  as  a  cobweb,  had  been  used  to 
remove  dust.  To  remove  dust!  Dust  from  what? 
From  the  mantel-shelf  probably,  upon  one  end  of 
which  I  found  it.  But  no!  one  look  along  the  pol- 
ished boards  convinced  me  that  whatever  else  had 
been  dusted  in  this  room  this  shelf  had  not.  The 
accumulation  of  days,  if  not  of  months,  was  visible 
from  one  end  to  the  other  of  its  unrelieved  surface 
save  where  the  handkerchief  had  lain,  and — the 
greatest  discovery  yet — where  five  clear  spots  just 
to  the  left  of  the  center  showed  where  some  man's 
finger-tips  had  rested.  Nothing  but  the  pressure  of 
finger-tips  could  have  caused  just  the  appearance 
presented  by  these  spots.  By  scrutinizing  them 
closely  I  could  even  tell  where  the  thumb  had  rested, 
and  at  once  foresaw  the  possibility  of  determining 
by  means  of  these  marks  both  the  size  and  shape 
of  the  hand  which  had  left  behind  it  so  neat  and 
unmistakable  a  clue. 

Wonderful!  but  what  did  it  all  mean?  Why 
should  a  man  rest  his  finger-tips  on  this  out-of- 
the-way  shelf?  Had  he  done  so  in  an  effort  to 


44  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

balance  himself  for  a  look  up  the  chimney?  No; 
for  then  the  marks  made  by  his  fingers  would 
have  extended  to  the  edge  of  the  shelf,  whereas 
these  were  in  the  middle  of  it.  Their  shape,  too, 
was  round,  not  oblong;  hence,  the  pressure  had 
come  from  above  and — ah!  I  had  it,  these  impres- 
sions in  the  dust  of  the  shelf  were  just  such  as 
would  be  made  by  a  person  steadying  himself  for 
a  close  look  at  the  old  picture.  And  this  accounted 
also  for  the  overturned  chair,  and  for  the  handker- 
chief used  as  a  duster.  Some  one's  interest  in  this 
picture  had  been  greater  than  mine;  some  one  who 
was  either  very  near-sighted  or  whose  temperament 
was  such  that  only  the  closest  inspection  would  sat- 
isfy an  aroused  curiosity. 

This  gave  me  an  idea,  or  rather  impressed  upon 
me  the  necessity  of  preserving  the  outline  of  these 
tell-tale  marks  while  they  were  still  plain  to  the  eye. 
Taking  out  my  penknife,  I  lightly  ran  the  point 
of  my  sharpest  blade  around  each  separate  impres- 
sion till  I  had  fixed  them  for  all  time  in  the  well 
worn  varnish  of  the  mahogany. 

This  done,  my  thoughts  recurred  to  the  question 
already  raised.  What  was  there  in  this  old  picture 
to  arouse  such  curiosity  in  one  bent  on  evil  if  not 
fresh  from  a  hideous  crime  ?  I  have  said  before  that 
the  picture  as  a  picture  was  worthless,  a  mere  faded 
fketch  |it  only  for  lumbering  up  some  old  garret. 


I  REMAIN  45 

Then  wherein  lay  its  charm, — a  charm  which  I  my- 
self had  felt,  though  not  to  this  extent  ?  It  was  use- 
less to  conjecture.  A  fresh  difficulty  had  been 
added  to  my  task  by  this  puzzling  discovery,  but 
difficulties  only  increased  my  interest.  It  was  with 
an  odd  feeling  of  elation  that,  in  a  further  exam- 
ination of  this  room,  I  came  upon  two  additional 
facts  equally  odd  and  irreconcilable. 

One  was  the  presence  of  a  penknife  with  the  file 
blade  open,  on  a  small  table  under  the  window 
marked  by  the  loosened  shutter.  Scattered  about  it 
were  some  filings  which  shone  as  the  light  from  my 
lantern  fell  upon  them,  but  which  were  so  fine  as 
to  call  for  a  magnify  ing-glass  to  make  them  out. 
The  other  was  in  connection  with  a  closet  not  far 
from  the  great  bed.  It  was  an  empty  closet  so  far 
as  the  hooks  went  and  the  two  great  drawers  which 
I  found  standing  half  open  at  its  back ;  but  in  the 
middle  of  the  floor  lay  an  overturned  candelabrum 
similar  to  the  one  below,  but  with  its  prisms  scat- 
tered and  its  one  candle  crushed  and  battered  out  of 
all  shape  on  the  blackened  boards.  If  upset  while 
alight,  the  foot  which  had  stamped  upon  it  in  a  wild 
endeavor  to  put  out  the  flames  had  been  a  frenzied 
one.  Now,  by  whom  had  this  frenzy  been  shown, 
and  when?  Within  the  hour?  I  could  detect  no 
smell  of  smoke.  At  some  former  time,  then?  say 
on  the  day  of  the  bridal? 


46  THE   FILIGREE    BALL 

Glancing  from  the  broken  candle  at  my  feet  to 
the  one  giving  its  last  sputter  in  the  tumbler  on  the 
dressing  table,  I  owned  myself  perplexed. 

Surely,  no  ordinary  explanation  fitted  these  ex- 
traordinary and  seemingly  contradictory  circum- 
stances. 


IV 

SIGNED,   VERONICA 

I  am  in  some  ways  hypersensitive.  Among  my 
other  weaknesses  I  have  a  wholesome  dread  of  ridi- 
cule, and  this  is  probably  why  I  failed  to  press 
my  theory  on  the  captain  when  he  appeared,  and 
even  forbore  to  mention  the  various  small  matters 
which  had  so  attracted  my  attention.  If  he  and  the 
experienced  men  who  came  with  him  saw  suicide 
and  nothing  but  suicide  in  this  lamentable  shooting 
of  a  bride  of  two  weeks,  then  it  was  not  for  me  to 
suggest  a  deeper  crime,  especially  as  one  of  the 
latter  eyed  me  with  open  scorn  when  I  proposed  to 
accompany  them  upstairs  into  the  room  where  the 
light  had  been  seen  burning.  No,  I  would  keep  my 
discoveries  to  myself  or,  at  least,  forbear  to  mention 
them  till  I  found  the  captain  alone,  asking  nothing 
at  this  juncture  but  permission  to  remain  in  the 
house  till  Mr.  Jeffrey  arrived. 

I  had  been  told  that  an  officer  had  gone  for  this 
gentleman,  and  when  I  heard  the  sound  of  wheels 
in  front  I  made  a  rush  for  the  door,  in  my  anxiety 
47 


48  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

to  catch  a  glimpse  of  him.  But  it  was  a  woman 
who  alighted. 

As  this  woman  was  in  a  state  of  great  agitation, 
one  of  the  men  hastened  down  to  offer  his  arm.  As 
she  took  it,  I  asked  Hibbard,  who  had  suddenly 
reappeared  upon  the  scene,  who  she  was. 

He  said  that  she  was  probably  the  sister  of  the 
woman  who  lay  inside.  Upon  which  I  remembered 
that  this  lady,  under  the  name  of  Miss  Tuttle — 
she  was  but  half-sister  to  Miss  Moore — had  been 
repeatedly  mentioned  by  the  reporters,  in  the 
accounts  of  the  wedding  before  mentioned,  as  a 
person  of  superior  attainments  and  magnificent 
beauty. 

This  did  not  take  from  my  interest,  and  flinging 
decorum  to  the  winds,  I  approached  as  near  as 
possible  to  the  threshold  which  she  must  soon 
cross.  As  I  did  so  I  was  astonished  to  hear  the 
strains  of  Uncle  David's  organ  still  pealing  from 
the  opposite  side  of  the  way.  This  at  a  moment  so 
serious  and  while  matters  of  apparent  consequence 
were  taking  place  in  the  house  to  which  he  had 
himself  directed  the  attention  of  the  police,  struck 
me  as  carrying  stoicism  to  the  extreme.  Not 
very  favorably  impressed  by  this  display  of  open 
if  not  insulting  indifference  on  the  part  of  the 
sole  remaining  Moore, — an  indifference  which  did 
not  appear  quite  natural  even  in  a  man  of  his 


SIGNED,  VERONICA  49 

morbid  eccentricity, — I  resolved  to  know  more 
of  this  old  man  and,  above  all,  to  make  myself  fully 
acquainted  with  the  exact  relations  which  had  ex- 
isted between  him  and  his  unhappy  niece. 

Meanwhile  Miss  Tuttle  had  stepped  within  the 
circle  of  light  cast  by  our  lanterns. 

I  have  never  seen  a  finer  woman,  nor  one  whose 
features  displayed  a  more  heartrending  emotion. 
This  called  for  respect,  and  I,  for  one,  endeavored 
to  show  it  by  withdrawing  into  the  background. 
But  I  soon  stepped  forward  again.  My  desire  to 
understand  her  was  too  great,  the  impression  made 
by  her  bearing  too  complex,  to  be  passed  over 
lightly  by  one  on  the  lookout  for  a  key  to  the  re- 
markable tragedy  before  us. 

Meanwhile  her  lips  had  opened  with  the  cry : 

"My  sister!    Where  is  my  sister?" 

The  captain  made  a  hurried  movement  toward  the 
rear  and  then  with  the  laudable  intention,  doubt- 
less, of  preparing  her  for  the  ghastly  sight  which 
awaited  her,  returned  and  opened  a  way  for  her 
into  the  drawing-room.  But  she  was  not  to  be 
turned  aside  from  her  course.  Passing  him  by, 
she  made  directly  for  the  library  which  she  en- 
tered with  a  bound.  Struck  by  her  daring,  we 
all  crowded  up  behind  her,  and,  curious  brutes 
that  we  were,  grouped  ourselves  in  a  semicircle 
about  the  doorway  as  she  faltered  toward  her  sis- 


50  THE  FILIGREE  BALL 

ter's  outstretched  form  and  fell  on  her  knees 
beside  it.  Her  involuntary  shriek  and  the  fierce 
recoil  she  made  as  her  eyes  fell  on  the  long  white 
ribbon  trailing  over  the  floor  from  her  sister's 
wrist,  struck  me  as  voicing  the  utmost  horror  of 
which  the  human  soul  is  capable.  It  was  as  though 
her  very  soul  were  pierced.  Something  in  the  fact 
itself,  something  in  the  appearance  of  this  snowy 
ribbon  tied  to  the  scarce  whiter  wrist,  seemed  to 
pluck  at  the  very  root  of  her  being ;  and  when  her 
glance,  in  traveling  its  length,  lighted  on  the  death- 
dealing  weapon  at  its  end,  she  cringed  in  such 
apparent  anguish  that  we  looked  to  see  her  fall 
in  a  swoon  or  break  out  into  delirium.  We  were 
correspondingly  startled  when  she  suddenly  burst 
forth  with  this  word  of  stern  command: 

"Untie  that  knot!  Why  do  you  leave  that 
dreadful  thing  fast  to  her?  Untie  it,  I  say,  it  is 
killing  me;  I  can  not  bear  the  sight."  And  from 
trembling  she  passed  to  shuddering  till  her  whole 
body  shook  convulsively. 

The  captain,  with  much  consideration,  drew 
back  the  hand  he  had  impulsively  stretched  to- 
ward the  ribbon. 

"No,  no,"  he  protested;  "we  can  not  do  that; 
we  can  do  nothing  till  the  coroner  comes.  It  is 
necessary  that  he  should  see  her  just  as  she  was 


SIGNED,  VERONICA  51 

found.  Besides,  Mr.  Jeffrey  has  a  right  to  the 
same  privilege.  We  expect  him  any  moment." 

The  beautiful  head  of  the  woman  before  us  shook 
involuntarily,  but  her  lips  made  no  protest.  I 
doubt  if  she  possessed  the  power  of  speech  at  that 
moment.  A  change,  subtile,  but  quite  perceptible, 
had  taken  place  in  her  emotions  at  mention  of  her 
sister's  husband,  and,  though  she  exerted  herself 
to  remain  calm,  the  effort  seemed  too  much  for  her 
strength.  Anxious  to  hide  this  evidence  of  weak- 
ness, she  rose  impetuously ;  and  then  we  saw  how 
tall  she  was,  how  the  long  lines  of  her  cloak  be- 
came her,  and  what  a  glorious  creature  she  was  al- 
together. 

"It  will  kill  him,"  she  groaned  in  a  deep  in- 
ward voice.  Then,  with  a  certain  forced  haste  and 
in  a  tone  of  surprise  which  to  my  ear  had  not  quite 
a  natural  ring,  she  called  aloud  on  her  who  could  no 
longer  either  listen  or  answer: 

"Oh,  Veronica,  Veronica!  What  cause  had  you 
for  death?  And  why  do  we  find  you  lying  here 
in  a  spot  you  so  feared  and  detested?" 

"Don't  you  know?"  insinuated  the  captain,  with 
a  mild  persuasiveness,  such  as  he  was  seldom  heard 
to  use.  "Do  you  mean  that  you  can  not  account 
for  your  sister's  violent  end,  you,  who  have 
lived  with  her — or  so  I  have  been  told — ever  since 
her  marriage  with  Mr.  Jeffrey  ?" 


52  THE   FILIGREE    BALL 

"Yes." 

Keen  and  clear  the  word  rang  out,  fierce  in 
its  keenness  and  almost  too  clear  to  be  in  keeping 
with  the  half  choked  tones  with  which  she  added: 
"I  know  that  she  was  not  happy,  that  she  never 
has  been  happy  since  the  shadow  which  this  room 
suggests  fell  upon  her  marriage.  But  how  could 
I  so  much  as  dream  that  her  dread  of  the  past 
or  her  fear  of  the  future  would  drive  her  to  sui- 
cide, and  in  this  place  of  all  places !  Had  I  done 
so — had  I  imagined  in  the  least  degree  that  she  was 
affected  to  this  extent — do  you  think  that  I  would 
have  left  her  for  one  instant  alone?  None  of  us 
knew  that  she  contemplated  death.  She  had  no 
appearance  of  it;  she  laughed  when  I — " 

What  had  she  been  about  to  say?  The  captain 
seemed  to  wonder,  and  after  waiting  in  vain  for 
the  completion  of  her  sentence,  he  quietly  sug- 
gested : 

"You  have  not  finished  what  you  had  to  say, 
Miss  Turtle." 

She  started  and  seemed  to  come  back  from  some 
remote  region  of  thought  into  which  she  had  wan- 
dered. "I  don't  know — I  forget,"  she  stammered, 
with  a  heart-broken  sigh.  "Poor  Veronica! 
Wretched  Veronica!  How  shall  I  ever  tell  him! 
How,  how,  can  we  ever  prepare  him!" 

The  captain  took  advantage  of  this  reference  to 


SIGNED,  VERONICA  53 

Mr.  Jeffrey  to  ask  where  that  gentleman  was.  The 
young  lady  did  not  seem  eager  to  reply,  but  when 
pressed,  answered,  though  somewhat  mechanically, 
that  it  was  impossible  for  her  to  say;  Mr.  Jeffrey 
had  many  friends  with  any  one  of  whom  he  might 
be  enjoying  a  social  evening. 

"But  it  is  far  past  midnight  now,"  remarked 
the  captain.  "Is  he  in  the  habit  of  remaining  out 
late?" 

"Sometimes,"  she  faintly  admitted.  "Two  or 
three  times  since  his  marriage  he  has  been  out  till 
one." 

Were  there  other  causes  for  the  young  bride's 
evident  disappointment  and  misery  besides  the  one 
intimated?  There  certainly  was  some  excuse  for 
thinking  so. 

Possibly  some  one  of  us  may  have  shown  his 
doubts  in  this  regard,  for  the  woman  before  us 
suddenly  broke  forth  with  this  vehement  assertion: 

"Mr.  Jeffrey  was  a  loving  husband  to  my  sister. 
A  very  loving  husband,"  she  emphasized.  Then, 
growing  desperately  pale,  she  added,  "I  have  never 
known  a  better  man,"  and  stopped. 

Some  hidden  anguish  in  this  cry,  some  self-con- 
sciousness in  this  pause,  suggested  to  me  a  possi- 
bility which  I  was  glad  to  see  ignored  by  the  cap- 
tain in  his  next  question. 

"When  dipl  you  see  your  sister  last?"  he  asked. 


5*  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

"Were  you  at  home  when  she  left  her  husband's 
house?" 

"Alas!"  she  murmured.  Then  seeing  that  a 
more  direct  answer  was  expected  of  her,  she  added 
with  as  little  appearance  of  effort  as  possible: 
"I  was  at  home  and  I  heard  her  go  out.  But  I 
had  no  idea  that  it  was  for  any  purpose  other  than 
to  join  some  social  gathering." 

"Dressed  this  way?" 

The  captain  pointed  to  the  floor  and  her  eyes  fol- 
lowed. Certainly  Mrs.  Jeffrey  was  not  appareled 
for  an  evening  company.  As  Miss  Tuttle  realized 
the  trap  into  which  she  had  been  betrayed,  her 
words  rushed  forth  and  tripped  each  other  up. 

"I  did  not  notice.  She  often  wore  black — it  be- 
came her.  My  sister  was  eccentric." 

Worse,  worse  than  useless.  Some  slips  can  not  be 
explained  away.  Miss  Tuttle  seemed  to  realize  that 
this  was  one  of  them,  for  she  paused  abruptly, 
with  the  words  half  finished  on  her  tongue.  Yet 
her  attitude  commanded  respect,  and  I  for  one  was 
ready  to  accord  it  to  her. 

Certainly,  such  a  woman  was  not  to  be  seen  every 
day,  and  if  her  replies  lacked  candor,  there  was  a 
nobility  in  her  presence  which  gave  the  lie  to  any 
doubt.  At  least,  that  was  the  effect  she  produced 
on  me.  Whether  or  not  her  interrogator  shared  my 
feeling  I  could  not  so  readily  determine,  for  his 


SIGNED,  VERONICA  55 

attention  as  well  as  mine  was  suddenly  diverted  by 
the  cry  which  now  escaped  her  lips. 

"Her  watch!  Where  is  her  watch?  It  is  gone!  I 
saw  it  on  her  breast  and  it's  gone.  It  hung  just — 
just  where — " 

"Wait!"  cried  one  of  the  men  who  had  been 
peering  about  the  floor.  "Is  this  it?" 

He  held  aloft  a  small  object  blazing  with  jewels. 

"Yes,"  she  gasped,  trying  to  take  it. 

But  the  officer  gave  it  to  the  captain  instead. 

"It  must  have  slipped  from  her  as  she  fell,"  re- 
marked the  latter,  after  a  cursory  examination  of 
the  glittering  trinket.  "The  pin  by  which  she  at- 
tached it  to  her  dress  must  have  been  insecurely 
fastened."  Then  quickly  and  with  a  sharp  look 
at  Miss  Tuttle :  "Do  you  know  if  this  was  consid- 
ered an  accurate  timepiece?" 

"Yes.    Why  do  you  ask?   Is  it—" 

"Look!"  He  held  it  up  with  the  face  toward 
us.  The  hands  stood  at  thirteen  minutes  past 
seven.  "The  hour  and  the  moment  when  it  struck 
the  floor,"  he  declared.  "And  consequently  the 
hour  and  the  moment  when  Mrs.  Jeffrey  fell,"  fin- 
ished Durbin. 

Miss  Tuttle  said  nothing,  only  gasped. 

"Valuable  evidence,"  quoth  the  captain,  put- 
ting the  watch  in  his  pocket.  Then,  with  a  kind 
look  at  her,  called  forth  by  the  sight  of  her  misery : 


56  THE   FILIGREE    BALL 

"Does  this  hour  agree  with  the  time  of  her  leaving 
the  house?" 

"I  can  not  say.  I  think  so.  It  was  some  time 
before  or  after  seven.  I  don't  remember  the  exact 
minute." 

"It  would  take  fifteen  for  her  to  walk  here.  Did 
she  walk?" 

"I  do  not  know.  I  didn't  see  her  leave.  My 
room  is  at  the  back  of  the  house." 

"You  can  say  if  she  left  alone  or  in  the  com- 
pany of  her  husband?" 

"Mr.  Jeffrey  was  not  with  her?" 

"Was  Mr.  Jeffrey  in  the  house?" 

"He  was  not." 

This  last  negative  was  faintly  spoken. 

The  captain  noticed  this  and  ventured  upon  in- 
terrogating her  further. 

"How  long  had  he  been  gone?" 

Her  lips  parted;  she  was  deeply  agitated;  but 
when  she  spoke  it  was  coldly  and  with  studied  pre- 
cision. 

"Mr.  Jeffrey  was  not  at  home  to-night  at  all. 
He  has  not  been  in  all  day." 

"Not  at  home?  Did  his  wife  know  that  he  was 
going  to  dine  out?" 

"She  said  nothing  about  it." 

The  captain  cut  short  his  questions  and  in  an- 
other moment  I  understood  why.  A  gentleman  was 


SIGNED,  VERONICA  57 

standing  in  the  doorway,  whose  face  once  seen,  was 
enough  to  stop  the  words  on  any  man's  lips.  Miss 
Tuttle  saw  this  gentleman  almost  as  quickly  as 
we  did  and  sank  with  an  involuntary  moan  to  her 
knees. 

It  was  Francis  Jeffrey  come  to  look  upon  his 
dead  bride. 

I  have  been  present  at  many  tragic  scenes  and 
have  beheld  men  under  almost  every  aspect  of 
grief,  terror  and  remorse ;  but  there  was  something 
in  the  face  of  this  man  at  this  dreadful  moment 
that  was  quite  new  to  me,  and,  as  I  judge,  equally 
new  to  the  other  hardy  officials  about  me.  To  be 
sure  he  was  a  gentleman  and  a  very  high-bred  one 
at  that ;  and  it  is  but  seldom  we  have  to  do  with  any 
of  his  ilk. 

Breathlessly  we  awaited  his  first  words. 

Not  that  he  showed  frenzy  or  made  any  display 
of  the  grief  or  surprise  natural  to  the  occasion. 
On  the  contrary,  he  was  the  quietest  person  pres- 
ent, and  among  all  the  emotions  his  white  face  mir- 
rored I  saw  no  signs  of  what  might  be  called  sor- 
row. Yet  his  appearance  was  one  to  wring  the 
heart  and  rouse  the  most  contradictory  conjectures 
as  to  just  what  chord  in  his  evidently  highly- 
strung  nature  throbbed  most  acutely  to  the  horror 
and  astonishment  of  this  appalling  end  of  so  short 
a  married  life. 


58  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

His  eye,  which  was  fixed  on  the  prostrate  body 
of  his  bride,  did  not  yield  up  its  secret.  When 
he  moved  and  came  to  where  she  lay  and  caught 
his  first  sight  of  the  ribbon  and  the  pistol  attached 
to  it,  the  most  experienced  among  us  were  baffled 
as  to  the  nature  of  his  feelings  and  thoughts.  One 
thing  alone  was  patent  to  all.  He  had  no  wish  to 
touch  this  woman  whom  he  had  so  lately  sworn  to 
cherish.  His  eyes  devoured  her,  he  shuddered  and 
strove  several  times  to  speak,  and  though  kneeling 
by  her  side,  he  did  not  reach  forth  his  hand  nor 
did  he  let  a  tear  fall  on  the  appealing  features  so 
pathetically  turned  upward  as  if  to  meet  his  look. 

Suddenly  he  leaped  to  his  feet. 

"Must  she  stay  here?"  he  demanded,  looking 
about  for  the  person  most  in  authority. 

The  captain  answered  by  a  question : 

"How  do  you  account  for  her  being  here  at  all  ? 
What  explanation  have  you,  as  her  husband,  to 
give  for  this  strange  suicide  of  your  wife?" 

For  reply,  Mr.  Jeffrey,  who  was  an  exception- 
ally handsome  man,  drew  forth  a  small  slip  of 
crumpled  paper,  which  he  immediately  handed  over 
to  the  speaker. 

"Let  her  own  words  explain,"  said  he.  "I 
found  this  scrap  of  writing  in  our  upstairs  room 
when  I  returned  home  to-night.  She  must  have 
written  it  just  before — before — " 


SIGNED,  VERONICA  59 

A  smothered  groan  filled  up  the  break,  but  it  did 
not  come  from  his  lips,  which  were  fixed  and  set, 
but  from  those  of  the  woman  who  crouched 
amongst  us.  Did  he  catch  this  expression  of 
sorrow  from  one  whose  presence  he  as  yet  had 
given  no  token  of  recognizing?  He  did  not  seem 
to.  His  eye  was  on  the  captain,  who  was  slowly 
reading,  by  the  light  of  a  lantern  held  in  a  detec- 
tive's hand,  the  almost  illegible  words  which  Mr. 
Jeffrey  had  just  said  were  his  wife's  last  commu- 
nication. 

Will  they  seem  as  pathetic  to  the  eye  as  they  did 
to  the  ear  in  that  room  of  awesome  memories  and 
present  death? 

"I  find  that  I  do  not  love  you  as  I  thought  I  did. 
I  can  not  live,  knowing  this  to  be  so.  I  pray  God 
that  you  may  forgive  me.  VERONICA." 

A  gasp  from  the  figure  in  the  corner;  then  si- 
lence. We  were  glad  to  hear  the  captain's  voice 
again. 

"A  woman's  heart  is  a  great  mystery,"  he  re- 
marked, with  a  short  glance  at  Mr.  Jeffrey. 

It  was  a  sentiment  we  could  all  echo;  for  he,  to 
whom  she  had  alluded  in  these  few  lines  as  one  she 
could  not  love,  was  a  man  whom  most  women  would 
consider  the  embodiment  of  all  that  was  admirable 
and  attractive. 


60  THE   FILIGREE    BALL 

That  one  woman  so  regarded  him  was  apparent 
to  all.  If  ever  the  heart  spoke  in  a  human  face,  it 
spoke  in  that  of  Miss  Tuttle  as  she  watched  her 
sister's  husband  struggling  for  composure  above 
the  prostrate  form  of  her  who  but  a  few  hours 
previous  had  been  the  envy  of  all  the  fashionable 
young  women  in  Washington.  I  found  it  hard 
to  fix  my  attention  on  the  next  question,  inter- 
esting and  valuable  as  every  small  detail  was  likely 
to  prove  in  case  my  theory  of  this  crime  should 
ever  come  to  be  looked  on  as  the  true  one. 

"How  came  you  to  search  here  for  the  wife  who 
had  written  you  this  vague  and  far  from  satisfac- 
tory farewell?  I  see  no  hint  in  these  lines  of  the 
place  where  she  intended  to  take  her  life." 

"No!  no!"  Even  this  strong  man  shrank  from 
this  idea  and  showed  a  very  natural  recoil  as  his 
glances  flew  about  the  ill-omened  room  and  finally 
rested  on  the  fireside  over  which  so  repellent  a 
mystery  hung  in  impenetrable  shadow.  "She  said 
nothing  of  her  intentions ;  nothing !  But  the  man 
who  came  for  me  told  me  where  she  was  to  be 
found.  He  was  waiting  at  the  door  of  my  house. 
He  had  been  on  a  search  for  me  up  and  down  the 
town.  We  met  on  the  stoop." 

The  captain  accepted  this  explanation  without 
cavil.  I  was  glad  he  did.  But  to  me  the  affair 
showed  inconsistencies  which  I  secretly  felt  it  to  be 
my  especial  duty  to  unravel. 


1 

MASTER    AND    DOG 

No  further  opportunity  was  afforded  me  that 
night  for  studying  the  three  leading  characters  in 
the  remarkable  drama  I  saw  unfolding  before  me. 
A  task  was  assigned  me  by  the  captain  which  took 
me  from  the  house,  and  I  missed  the  next  scene — 
the  arrival  of  the  coroner.  But  I  repaid  myself 
for  this  loss  in  a  way  I  thought  justified  by  the 
importance  of  my  own  theory  and  the  evident 
necessity  there  was  of  collecting  each  and  every 
point  of  evidence  which  could  give  coloring  to  the 
charge,  in  the  event  of  this  crime  coming  to  be 
looked  on  at  headquarters  as  one  of  murder. 

Observing  that  a  light  was  still  burning  in  Uncle 
David's  domicile.  I  crossed  to  his  door  and  rang 
the  bell.  I  was  answered  by  the  deep  and  pro- 
longed howl  of  a  dog,  soon  cut  short  by  his  mas- 
ter's amiable  greeting.  This  latter  was  a  surprise 
to  me.  I  had  heard  so  often  of  Mr.  Moore's 
churlishness  as  a  host  that  I  had  expected  some 
rebuff.  But  I  encountered  no  such  tokens  of  hos- 
tility. His  brow  was  smooth  and  his  smile  cheer- 
61 


62  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

fully  condescending.  Indeed,  he  appeared  anx- 
ious to  have  me  enter,  and  cast  an  indulgent  look 
at  Rudge,  whose  irrepressible  joy  at  this  break 
in  the  monotony  of  his  existence  was  tinged  with  a 
very  evident  dread  of  offending  his  master.  In- 
terested anew,  I  followed  this  man  of  contradictory 
impulses  into  the  room  toward  which  he  led  me. 

The  time  has  now  come  for  a  more  careful  de- 
scription of  this  peculiar  man.  Mr.  Moore  was 
tall  and  of  that  refined  spareness  of  shape  which 
suggests  the  scholar.  Yet  he  had  not  the  scholar's 
eye.  On  the  contrary,  his  regard  was  quick,  if 
not  alert,  and  while  it  did  not  convey  actual 
malice  or  ill-will,  it  roused  in  the  spectator  an 
uncomfortable  feeling,  not  altogether  easy  to 
analyze.  He  wore  his  iron  gray  locks  quite 
long,  and  to  this  distinguishing  idiosyncrasy, 
as  well  as  to  his  invariable  custom  of  taking  his 
dog  with  him  wherever  he  went,  was  due  the  in- 
terest always  shown  in  him  by  street  urchins.  On 
account  of  his  whimsicalities,  he  had  acquired  the 
epithet  of  Uncle  David  among  them,  despite  his 
aristocratic  connections  and  his  gentlemanlike 
bearing.  His  clothes  formed  no  exception  to  the 
general  air  of  individuality  which  marked  him. 
They  were  of  different  cut  from  those  of  other 
men,  and  in  this  as  in  many  other  ways  he  was  a 
law  to  himself;  notably  so  in  the  following  in- 


MASTER  AND  DOG  63 

stance :  He  kept  one  day  of  the  year  religiously, 
and  kept  it  always  in  the  same  way.  Long 
years  before,  he  had  been  blessed  with  a  wife  who 
both  understood  and  loved  him.  He  had  never 
forgotten  this  fact,  and  once  a  year,  presumably 
on  the  anniversary  of  her  death,  it  was  his  cus- 
to  to  go  to  the  cemetery  where  she  lay  and  to 
spend  the  whole  day  under  the  shadow  of  the 
stone  he  had  raised  to  her  memory.  No  matter 
what  the  weather,  no  matter  what  the  condition  of 
his  own  health,  he  was  always  to  be  seen  in  this 
spot,  at  the  hour  of  seven,  leaning  against  the 
shaft  on  which  his  wife's  name  was  written,  eating 
his  supper  in  the  company  of  his  dog.  It  was  a 
custom  he  had  never  omitted.  So  well  known  was 
it  to  the  boys  and  certain  other  curious  individuals 
in  the  neighborhood  that  he  never  lacked  an  audi- 
ence, though  woe  betide  the  daring  foot  that  pre- 
sumed to  invade  the  precincts  of  the  lot  he  called 
his,  or  the  venturesome  voice  which  offered  to  raise 
itself  in  gibe  or  jeer.  He  had  but  to  cast  a  glance 
at  Rudge  and  an  avenging  rush  scattered  the 
crowd  in  a  twinkling.  But  he  seldom  had  occa- 
sion to  resort  to  this  extreme  measure  for  preserv- 
ing the  peace  and  quiet  of  his  solemn  watch.  As  a 
rule  he  was  allowed  to  eat  his  meal  undisturbed, 
and  to  pass  out  unmolested  even  by  ridicule,  though 
his  teeth  might  still  be  busy  over  some  final  ticl- 


64  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

bit.  Often  the  great  tears  might  be  seen  hanging 
undried  upon  his  withered  cheeks. 

So  much  for  one  oddity  which  may  stand  as  a 
sample  of  many  others. 

One  glance  at  the  room  into  which  he  ushered 
me  showed  why  he  cherished  so  marked  a  dislike 
for  visitors.  It  was  bare  to  the  point  of  discom- 
fort, and  had  it  not  been  for  a  certain  quaintness 
in  the  shape  of  the  few  articles  to  be  seen  there,  I 
should  have  experienced  a  decided  feeling  of  re- 
pulsion, so  pronounced  was  the  contrast  between 
this  poverty-stricken  interior  and  the  polished 
bearing  of  its  owner.  He,  I  am  sure,  could  have 
shown  no  more  elevated  manners  if  he  had  been 
doing  the  honors  of  a  palace.  The  organ,  with  the 
marks  of  home  construction  upon  it,  was  the  only 
object  visible  which  spoke  of  luxury  or  even  com- 
fort. 

But  enough  of  these  possibly  uninteresting  de- 
tails. I  did  not  dwell  on  them  myself,  except  in  a 
vague  way  and  while  waiting  for  him  to  open  the 
conversation.  This  he  did  as  soon  as  he  saw  that  I 
had  no  intention  of  speaking  first. 

"And  did  you  find  any  one  in  fjhe  old  house?" 
he  asked. 

Keeping  him  well  under  my  eye,  I  replied  with 
intentional  brusqueness : 

"She  has  gone  there  once  too  often !" 


MASTER  AND  DOG  65 

The  stare  he  gave  me  was  that  of  an  actor  who 
feels  that  some  expression  of  surprise  is  expected 
from  him. 

"She?"  he  repeated.  "Whom  can  you  possibly 
mean  by  she?" 

The  surprise  I  expressed  at  this  bold  attempt  at 
ingenuousness  was  better  simulated  than  his,  I  hope. 

"You  don't  know !"  I  exclaimed.  "Can  you  live 
directly  opposite  a  place  of  such  remarkable  asso- 
ciations and  not  interest  yourself  in  who  goes  in 
and  out  of  its  deserted  doors  ?" 

"I  don't  sit  in  my  front  window,"  he  peevishly 
returned. 

I  let  my  eye  roam  toward  a  chair  standing  sus- 
piciously near  the  very  window  he  had  designated. 

"But  you  saw  the  light?"  I  suggested. 

"I  saw  that  from  the  door-step  when  I  went  out 
to  give  Rudge  his  usual  five  minutes'  breathing 
spell  on  the  stoop.  But  you  have  not  answered  my 
question;  whom  do  you  mean  by  she?" 

"Veronica  Jeffrey,"  I  replied.  "She  who  was 
Veronica  Moore.  She  has  visited  this  haunted 
house  of  hers  for  the  last  time." 

"Last  time !"  Either  he  could  not  or  would  not 
understand  me. 

"What  has  happened  to  my  niece  ?"  he  cried,  ris- 
ing with  an  energy  that  displaced  the  great  dog 
and  sent  him,  with  hanging  head  and  trailing  tail, 


66  THE  FILIGREE  BALL 

to  his  own  special  sleeping-place  under  the  table. 
"Has  she  run  upon  a  ghost  in  those  dismal  apart- 
ments? You  interest  me  greatly.  I  did  not 
think  she  would  ever  have  the  pluck  to  visit  this 
house  again  after  what  happened  at  her  wedding." 

"She  has  had  the  pluck,"  I  assured  him;  "and 
what  is  more,  she  has  had  enough  of  it  not  only  to 
reenter  the  house,  but  to  reenter  it  alone.  At  least, 
such  is  the  present  inference.  Had  you  been 
blessed  with  more  curiosity  and  made  more  frequent 
use  of  the  chair  so  conveniently  placed  for  viewing 
the  opposite  house,  you  might  have  been  in  a  posi- 
tion to  correct  this  inference.  It  would  help  the 
police  materially  to  know  positively  that  she  had  no 
companion  in  her  fatal  visit." 

"Fatal?"  he  repeated,  running  his  finger  inside 
his  neckband,  which  suddenly  seemed  to  have 
grown  too  tight  for  comfort.  "Can  it  be  that  my 
niece  has  been  frightened  to  death  in  that  old 
place?  You  alarm  me." 

He  did  not  look  alarmed,  but  then  he  was  not  of 
an  impressible  nature.  Yet  he  was  of  the  same 
human  clay  as  the  rest  of  us,  and,  if  he  knew  no 
more  of  this  occurrence  than  he  tried  to  make  out, 
could  not  be  altogether  impervious  to  what  I  had 
to  say  next. 

"You  have  a  right  to  be  alarmed,"  I  assented. 
"She  was  not  frightened  to  death,  yet  is  she  lying 


MASTER  AND  DOG  67 

dead  on  the  library  floor."  Then,  with  a  glance  at 
the  windows  about  me,  I  added  lightly:  "I  take 
it  that  a  pistol-shot  delivered  over  there  could  not 
be  heard  in  this  room." 

He  sank  rather  melodramatically  into  his  seat, 
yet  his  face  and  form  did  not  lose  that  sudden  as- 
sumption of  dignity  which  I  had  observed  in  him 
ever  since  my  entrance  into  the  house. 

"I  am  overwhelmed  by  this  news,"  he  remarked. 
"She  has  shot  herself?  Why?" 

"I  did  not  say  that  she  had  shot  herself,"  I  care- 
fully repeated.  "Yet  the  facts  point  that  way 
and  Mr.  Jeffrey  accepts  the  suicide  theory  without 
question." 

"Ah,  Mr.  Jeffrey  is  there !" 

"Most  certainly ;  he  was  sent  for  at  once." 

"And  Miss  Tuttle?  She  came  with  him  of 
course  ?" 

"She  came,  but  not  with  him.  She  is  very  fond 
of  her  sister." 

"I  must  go  over  at  once,"  he  cried,  leaping  again 
to  his  feet  and  looking  about  for  his  hat.  "It  is 
my  duty  to  make  them  feel  at  home ;  in  short,  to — 
to  put  the  house  at  their  disposal."  Here  he  found 
his  hat  and  placed  it  on  his  head.  "The  property 
is  mine  now,  you  know,"  he  politely  explained, 
turning,  with  a  keen  light  in  his  gray  eye,  full  upon 
me  and  overwhelming  me  with  the  grand  air  of  a 


68  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

man  who  has  come  unexpectedly  into  his  own. 
"Mrs.  Jeffrey's  father  was  my  younger  brother — - 
the  story  is  an  old  and  long  one — and  the  property, 
which  in  all  justice  should  have  been  divided  be- 
tween us,  went  entirely  to  him.  But  he  was  a 
good  fellow  in  the  main  and  saw  the  injustice  of 
his  father's  will  as  clearly  as  I  did,  and  years  ago 
made  one  on  his  own  account  bequeathing  me  the 
whole  estate  in  case  he  left  no  issue,  or  that  issue 
died.  Veronica  was  his  only  child;  Veronica  has 
died;  therefore  the  old  house  is  mine  and  all  that 
goes  with  it,  all  that  goes  with  it." 

There  was  the  miser's  gloating  in  this  repetition 
of  a  phrase  sufficiently  expressive  in  itself,  or  rather 
the  gloating  of  a  man  who  sees  himself  suddenly 
rich  after  a  life  of  poverty.  There  was  likewise  a 
callousness  as  regarded  his  niece's  surprising  death 
which  I  considered  myself  to  have  some  excuse  for 
noticing. 

"You  accept  her  death  very  calmly,"  I  remarked. 
"Probably  you  knew  her  to  be  possessed  of  an  er- 
ratic mind." 

He  was  about  to  bestow  an  admonitory  kick  on 
his  dog,  who  had  been  indiscreet  enough  to  rise  at 
his  master's  first  move,  but  his  foot  stopped  in  mid 
air,  in  his  anxiety  to  concentrate  all  his  attention 
on  his  answer. 

"I  am  a  man  of  few  sentimentalities,"  he  coldly 


MASTER  AND  DOG  69 

averred.  "I  have  loved  but  one  person  in  my  whole 
life.  Why  then  should  I  be  expected  to  mourn 
over  a  niece  who  did  not  care  enough  for  me  to 
invite  me  to  her  wedding?  It  would  be  an  affecta- 
tion unworthy  the  man  who  has  at  last  come  to  fill 
his  rightful  position  in  this  community  as  the  own- 
er of  the  great  Moore  estate.  For  great  it  shall 
be,"  he  emphatically  continued.  "In  three  years 
you  will  not  know  the  house  over  yonder.  Despite 
its  fancied  ghosts  and  death-dealing  fireplace,  it 
will  stand  A  Number  One  in  Washington.  I,  Da- 
vid Moore,  promise  you  this ;  and  I  am  not  a  man 
to  utter  fatuous  prophecies.  But  I  must  be  missed 
over  there."  Here  he  gave  the  mastiff  the  long- 
delayed  kick.  "Rudge,  stay  here !  The  vestibule 
opposite  is  icy.  Besides,  your  howls  are  not  wanted 
in  those  old  walls  to-night  even  if  you  would  go 
with  me,  which  I  doubt.  He  has  never  been  willing 
to  cross  to  that  side  of  the  street,"  the  old  gentle- 
man went  on  to  complain,  with  his  first  show  of  ir- 
ritation. "But  he'll  have  to  overcome  that  preju- 
dice soon,  even  if  I  have  to  tear  up  the  old  hearth- 
stone and  reconstruct  the  walls.  I  can't  live  with- 
out Rudge,  and  I  will  not  live  in  any  other  place 
than  in  the  old  home  of  my  ancestors." 

I  was  by  this  time  following  him  out. 

"You  have  failed  to  answer  the  suggestion  I 
made  you  a  minute  since,"  I  hazarded.  "Will  you 


70  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

pardon  me  if  I  put  it  now  as  a  question?  Your 
niece,  Mrs.  Jeffrey,  seemed  to  have  everything  in 
the  world  to  make  her  happy,  yet  she  took  her  life. 
Was  there  a  taint  of  insanity  in  her  blood,  or  was 
her  nature  so  impulsive  that  her  astonishing  death 
in  so  revolting  a  place  should  awaken  in  you  so 
little  wonder?" 

A  gleam  of  what  had  made  him  more  or  less 
feared  by  the  very  urchins  who  dogged  his  steps 
and  made  sport  of  him  at  a  respectful  distance 
shot  from  his  eye  as  he  glowered  back  at  me  from 
the  open  door.  But  he  hastily  suppressed  this  sign 
of  displeasure  and  replied  with  the  faintest  tinge 
of  sarcasm : 

"There!  you  are  expecting  from  me  feelings 
which  belong  to  youth  or  to  men  of  much  more 
heart  than  understanding.  I  tell  you  that  I  have 
no  feelings.  My  niece  may  have  developed  in- 
sanity or  she  may  simply  have  drunk  her  cup  of 
pleasure  dry  at  twenty-two  and  come  to  its  dregs 
prematurely.  I  do  not  know  and  I  do  not  care. 
What  concerns  me  is  that  the  responsibility  of  a 
large  fortune  has  fallen  upon  me  most  unexpected- 
ly and  that  I  have  pride  enough  to  wish  to  show 
myself  capable  of  sustaining  the  burden.  Be- 
sides, they  may  be  tempted  to  do  some  mischief  to 
the  walls  or  floors  over  there.  The  police  respect 
no  man's  property.  But  I  am  determined  they 


MASTER  AND  DOG  71 

shall  respect  mine.  No  rippings  up  or  tearings 
down  will  I  allow  unless  I  stand  by  to  supervise  the 
job.  I  am  master  of  the  old  homestead  now  and  I 
mean  to  show  it."  And  with  a  last  glance  at  the 
dog,  who  uttered  the  most  mournful  of  protests  in 
reply,  he  shut  the  front  door  and  betook  himself  to 
the  other  side  of  the  street. 

As  I  noticed  his  assured  bearing  as  he  disap- 
peared within  the  forbidding  portal  which,  accord- 
ing to  his  own  story,  had  for  so  long  a  time  been 
shut  against  him,  I  asked  myself  if  the  candle 
which  I  had  noticed  lying  on  his  mantel-shelf  was 
of  the  same  make  and  size  as  those  I  had  found  in 
my  late  investigations  in  the  house  he  was  then 
entering. 


VI 


Next  morning  the  city  was  in  a  blaze  of  excite- 
ment.  All  the  burning  questions  of  the  hour — 
the  rapid  mobilization  of  the  army  and  the  prospect 
of  a  speedy  advance  on  Cuba — were  forgotten  in 
the  one  engrossing  topic  of  young  Mrs.  Jeffrey's 
death  and  the  awful  circumstances  surrounding  it. 
Nothing  else  was  in  any  one's  mouth  and  but  little 
else  in  any  one's  heart.  Her  youth,  her  promi- 
nence, her  union  with  a  man  of  such  marked  at- 
tractions as  Mr.  Jeffrey,  the  tragedy  connected 
with  her  marriage,  thrown  now  into  shadow  by  the 
still  more  poignant  tragedy  which  had  so  suddenly 
terminated  her  own  life,  gave  to  the  affair  an  inter- 
est which  for  those  first  twenty-four  hours  did  not 
call  for  any  further  heightening  by  a  premature 
suggestion  of  murder. 

Though  I  was  the  hero  of  the  hour  and,  as  such, 
subjected  to  an  infinite  number  of  questions,  I  fol- 
lowed the  lead  of  my  superiors  in  this  regard  and 
carefully  refrained  from  advancing  any  theories 
72 


GOSSIP  73 

beyond  the  obvious  one  of  suicide.  The  moment 
for  self -exploitation  was  not  ripe;  I  did  not  stand 
high  enough  in  the  confidence  of  the  major,  or,  I 
may  say,  of  the  lieutenant  of  my  own  precinct,  to 
risk  the  triumph  I  anticipated  ultimately  by  a 
premature  expression  of  opinion. 

I  had  an  enemy  at  headquarters ;  or,  rather,  one 
of  the  men  there  had  always  appeared  peculiarly 
interested  in  showing  me  up  in  the  worst  light. 
The  name  of  this  man  was  Durbin,  and  it  was  he 
who  had  uttered  something  like  a  slighting  remark 
when  on  that  first  night  I  endeavored  to  call  the 
captain's  attention  to  some  of  the  small  matters 
which  had  offered  themselves  to  me  in  the  light  of 
clues.  Perhaps  it  was  the  prospect  of  surprising 
him  some  day  which  made  me  so  wary  now  as  well 
as  so  alert  to  fill  my  mind  with  all  known  facts  con- 
cerning the  Jeffreys.  One  of  my  first  acts  was  to 
turn  over  the  files  of  the  Star  and  reread  the  fol- 
lowing account  of  the  great  wedding.  As  it  is  a 
sensational  description  of  a  sensational  event,  I 
shall  make  no  apology  for  the  headlines  which 
startled  all  Washington  the  night  they  appeared. 


74  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 


'STARTLING     TERMINATION     OF     THE 
JEFFREY-MOORE  WEDDING. 


THE  TRADITIONAL  DOOM  FOLLOWS  THE  OPENING  OF 
THE  OLD  HOUSE  ON  WAVEELEY  AVENUE. 


ONE    OF    THE    GUESTS    FOUND    LYING    DEAD    ON    THE 
LIBRARY    HEARTHSTONE, 


LETTERS   IN   HIS   POCKET  SHOW   HIM   TO   HAVE   BEEN 
ONE  W.   PFEIFFER   OF  DENVER. 


NO     INTERRUPTION     TO     THE     CEREMONY     FOLLOWS 

THIS     GHASTLY    DISCOVERY,    BUT     THE     GUESTS 

FLY  IN  ALL  DIRECTIONS  AS   SOON   AS   THE 

NUPTIAL    KNOT    IS    TIED. 

"The  festivities  attendant  upon  the  wedding  of 
Miss  Veronica  Moore  to  Mr.  Francis  Jeffrey  of 
this  city  met  with  a  startling  check  to-day.  As 
most  of  our  readers  know,  the  long-closed  house  on 
Waverley  Avenue,  which  for  nearly  a  century  has 
been  in  possession  of  the  bride's  family,  was  opened 
for  the  occasion  at  the  express  wish  of  the  bride. 
For  a  week  the  preparations  for  this  great  function 
have  been  going  on.  When  at  an  early  hour 
this  morning  a  line  of  carriages  drew  up  in  front 
of  the  historic  mansion  and  the  bridal  party  en- 


GOSSIP  75 

tered  under  its  once  gloomy  but  now  seemingly  tri- 
umphant portal,  the  crowds,  which  blocked  the 
street  from  curb  to  curb,  testified  to  the  interest 
felt  by  the  citizens  of  Washington  in  this  daring 
attempt  to  brave  the  traditions  which  have  marked 
this  house  out  as  solitary,  and  by  a  scene  of  joyous 
festivity  make  the  past  forgotten  and  restore  again 
to  usefulness  the  decayed  grandeurs  of  an  earlier 
time.  As  Miss  Moore  is  one  of  Washington's  most 
charming  women,  and  as  this  romantic  effort  natu- 
rally lent  an  extraordinary  interest  to  the  cere- 
mony of  her  marriage,  a  large  number  of  our 
representative  people  assembled  to  witness  it,  and 
by  high  noon  the  scene  wag  one  of  unusual  bril- 
liancy. 

"Halls  which  had  moldered  away  in  an  un- 
broken silence  for  years  echoed  again  with  laughter 
and  palpitated  to  the  choicest  strains  of  the  Marine 
Band.  All  doors  were  open  save  those  of  the  li- 
brary— an  exception  which  added  a  pleasing  ex- 
citement to  the  occasion — and  when  by  chance 
some  of  the  more  youthful  guests  were  caught  peer- 
ing behind  the  two  Corinthian  pillars  guarding 
these  forbidden  precincts  the  memories  thus  evoked 
were  momentary  and  the  shadow  soon  passed. 

"The  wedding  had  been  set  for  high  noon,  and 
as  the  clock  in  the  drawing-room  struck  the  hour 
every  head  was  craned  to  catch  the  first  glimpse  of 


76  THE   FILIGREE   BALL 

the  bride  coming  down  the  old-fashioned  staircase. 
But  five  minutes,  ten  minutes,  a  half-hour,  passed 
without  this  expectation  being  gratified.  The 
crowd  above  and  below  was  growing  restless,  when 
suddenly  a  cry  was  heard  from  beyond  the  gilded 
pillars  framing  the  library  door,  and  a  young  lady 
was  seen  rushing  from  the  forbidden  quarter, 
trembling  with  dismay  and  white  with  horror.  It 
was  Miss  Abbott  of  Stratford  Circle,  who  in  the  in- 
terim of  waiting  had  allowed  her  curiosity  to  mas- 
ter her  dread,  and  by  one  peep  into  the  room,  which 
seemed  to  exercise  over  her  the  fascination  of 
a  Bluebeard's  chamber,  discovered  the  outstretched 
form  of  a  man  lying  senseless  and  apparently  dead 
on  the  edge  of  the  hearthstone.  The  terror  which 
instantly  spread  amongst  the  guests  shows  the  hold 
which  superstition  has  upon  all  classes  of  human- 
ity. Happily,  however,  an  unseemly  panic  was 
averted,  by  the  necessity  which  all  felt  of  preserv- 
ing some  sort  of  composure  till  the  ceremony  for 
which  they  had  assembled  had  been  performed. 
For  simultaneously  with  this  discovery  of  death  in 
the  library  there  had  come  from  above  the  sound 
of  the  approaching  bridal  procession,  and  cries 
were  hushed,  and  beating  hearts  restrained,  as  Miss 
Moore's  charming  face  and  exquisite  figure  ap- 
peared between  the  rows  of  flowering  plants  with 
which  the  staircase  was  lined.  No  need  for  the 


GOSSIP  77 

murmur  to  go  about,  'Spare  the  bride !  Let  noth- 
ing but  cheer  surround  her  till  she  is  Jeffrey's 
wife!'  The  look  of  joy  which  irradiated  her 
countenance,  and  gave  a  fairy-like  aspect  to  her 
whole  exquisite  person  would  have  deterred  the 
most  careless  and  self -centered  person  there  from 
casting  a  shadow  across  her  pathway  one  minute 
sooner  than  necessity  demanded.  The  richness  of 
the  ancestral  veil  which  covered  her  features  and  the 
natural  timidity  which  prevents  a  bride  from  lift- 
ing her  eyes  from  the  floor  she  traverses  saved  her 
from  observing  the  strange  looks  by  which  her 
presence  was  hailed.  She  was  consequently  en- 
abled to  go  through  the  ceremony  in  happy  un- 
consciousness of  the  forced  restraint  which  held 
that  surging  mass  together. 

"But  the  bridesmaids  were  not  so  happy.  Miss 
Tuttle  especially  held  herself  upright  simply  by 
the  exercise  of  her  will ;  and  though  resplendent  in 
beauty,  suffered  so  much  in  her  anxiety  for  the 
bride  that  it  was  a  matter  of  small  surprise  when 
she  fainted  at  the  conclusion  of  the  ceremony. 

"Mr.  Jeffrey  showed  more  composure,  but  the 
inward  excitement  under  which  he  was  laboring 
made  him  trip  more  than  once  in  his  responses,  as 
many  there  noted  whose  minds  were  not  fixed  too 
strongly  on  flight. 

"Only   Doctor   Auchincloss   was   quite   himself, 


78  THE  FILIGREE  BALL 

and  by  means  of  the  solemnity  with  which  he  in- 
vested his  words  kept  the  hubbub  down,  which  was 
already  making  itself  heard  on  the  outskirts  of  the 
crowd.  But  even  his  influence  did  not  prevail  be- 
yond the  moment  devoted  to  the  benediction.  Once 
the  sacred  words  were  said,  such  a  stampede  fol- 
lowed that  the  bride  showed  much  alarm,  and  it  was 
left  for  Mr.  Jeffrey  to  explain  to  her  the  cause  of 
this  astonishing  conduct  on  the  part  of  her  guests. 
She  bore  the  disclosure  well,  all  things  considered, 
and  once  she  was  fully  assured  that  the  unhappy 
man  whose  sudden  death  had  thus  interrupted  the 
festivities  was  an  intruder  upon  the  scene,  and 
quite  unknown,  not  only  to  herself  but  to  her  newly- 
made  husband,  she  brightened  perceptibly,  though, 
like  every  one  around  her,  she  seemed  anxious  to 
leave  the  house,  and,  indeed,  did  so  as  soon  as  Miss 
Tuttle's  condition  warranted  it. 

"The  fact  that  the  bride  went  through  the  cere- 
mony without  her  bridal  bouquet  is  looked  upon 
by  many  as  an  unfavorable  omen.  In  her  anxiety 
not  to  impose  any  longer  upon  the  patience  of  her 
guests,  she  had  descended  without  it. 

"As  to  the  deceased,  but  little  is  known  of  him. 
Letters  found  on  his  person  prove  his  name  to  be 
W.  Pfeiffer,  and  his  residence  Denver.  His  pres- 
ence in  Miss  Moore's  house  at  a  time  so  inoppor- 
tune is  unexplained.  No  such  name  is  on  the  list 


GOSSIP  79 

of  wedding  guests,  nor  was  he  recognized  as  one 
of  Miss  Moore's  friends  either  by  Mr.  Jeffrey  or 
by  such  of  her  relatives  and  acquaintances  as  had 
the  courage  to  enter  the  library  to  see  him. 

"With  the  exception  of  the  discolored  mark  on 
his  temple,  showing  where  his  head  had  come  in 
contact  with  the  hearthstone,  his  body  presents  an 
appearance  of  natural  robustness,  which  makes  his 
sudden  end  seem  all  the  more  shocking. 

"His  name  has  been  found  registered  at  the 
National  Hotel." 

Turning  over  the  files,  I  next  came  upon  the  fol- 
lowing despatch  from  Denver: 

"The  sudden  death  in  Washington  of  Wallace 
Pfeiffer,  one  of  our  best  known  and  most  respected 
citizens,  is  deeply  deplored  by  all  who  knew  him 
and  his  unfortunate  mother.  He  is  the  last  of  her 
three  sons,  all  of  whom  have  died  within  the  year. 
The  demise  of  Wallace  leaves  her  entirely  unpro- 
vided for.  It  was  not  known  here  that  Mr.  Pfeif- 
fer intended  to  visit  Washington.  He  was  sup- 
posed to  go  in  quite  the  opposite  direction,  hav- 
ing said  to  more  than  one  that  he  had  business 
in  San  Francisco.  His  intrusion  into  the  house  of 
Miss  Moore  during  the  celebration  of  a  marriage  in 
which  he  could  have  taken  no  personal  interest  is 
explained  in  the  following  manner  by  such  as  knew 


80  THE   FILIGREE   BALL 

his  mental  peculiarities:  Though  a  merchant  by 
trade  and  latterly  a  miner  in  the  Klondike,  he  had 
great  interest  in  the  occult  and  was  a  strong  be- 
liever in  all  kinds  of  supernatural  manifestations. 
He  may  have  heard  of  the  unhappy  reputation  at- 
taching to  the  Moore  house  in  Washington  and, 
fascinated  by  the  mystery  involved,  embraced  the 
opportunity  afforded  by  open  doors  and  the  general 
confusion  incident  to  so  large  a  gathering  to  en- 
ter the  interesting  old  place  and  investigate  for 
himself  the  fatal  library.  The  fact  of  his  having 
been  found  secluded  in  this  very  room,  at  a  moment 
when  every  other  person  in  the  house  was  pushing 
forward  to  see  the  bride,  lends  color  to  this  supposi- 
tion; and  his  sudden  death  under  circumstances 
tending  to  rouse  the  imagination  shows  the  extreme 
sensitiveness  of  his  nature. 
"He  will  be  buried  here." 

The  next  paragraph  was  short.  Fresher  events 
were  already  crowding  this  three-days-old  wonder 
to  the  wall. 

"Verdict  in  the  case  of  Wallace  Pfeiffer,  found 
lying  dead  on  the  hearthstone  of  the  old  Moore 
house  library. 

"Concussion  of  the  brain,  preceded  by  mental 
shock  or  heart  failure. 


GOSSIP  81 

"The  body  went  on  to  Denver  to-day." 

And  below,  separated  by  the  narrowest  of  spaces : 

"Mr.  and  Mrs.  Francis  Jeffrey  have  decided  to 
give  up  their  wedding  tour  and  spend  their  honey- 
moon in  Washington.  They  will  occupy  the  Ran- 
some  house  on  K  Street." 

The  last  paragraph  brought  me  back  to  the 
question  then  troubling  my  mind.  Was  it  in  the 
household  of  this  newly  married  pair  and  in  the 
possible  secret  passions  underlying  their  union  that 
one  should  look  for  the  cause  of  the  murderous 
crime  I  secretly  imagined  to  be  hidden  behind  this 
seeming  suicide?  Or  were  these  parties  innocent 
and  old  David  Moore  the  one  motive  power  in  pre- 
cipitating a  tragedy,  the  result  of  which  had  been 
to  enrich  him  and  impoverish  them?  Certainly,  a 
most  serious  and  important  question,  and  one  which 
any  man  might  be  pardoned  for  attempting  to  an- 
swer, especially  if  that  man  was  a  young  detective 
lamenting  his  obscurity  and  dreaming  of  a  recog- 
nition which  would  yield  him  fame  and  the  where- 
withal to  marry  a  certain  clever  but  mischievous 
little  minx  of  whom  you  are  destined  to  hear  more. 

But  how  was  that  same  young  detective,  ham- 
pered as  he  was,  and  held  in  thrall  by  a  fear  of  ridi- 


88  THE    FILIGREE    BALL' 

cule  and  a  total  lack  of  record,  to  get  the  chance 
to  push  an  inquiry  requiring  opportunities  which 
could  only  come  by  special  favor?  This  was  what 
I  continually  asked  myself,  and  always  without 
result. 

True,  I  might  approach  the  captain  or  the  major 
with  my  story  of  the  tell-tale  marks  I  had  dis- 
covered in  the  dust  covering  the  southwest  chamber 
mantel-shelf,  and,  if  fortunate  enough  to  find  that 
these  had  been  passed  over  by  the  other  de- 
tectives, seek  to  gain  a  hearing  thereby  and  secure 
for  myself  the  privileges  I  so  earnestly  desired. 
But  my  egotism  was  such  that  I  wished  to  be  sure 
of  the  hand  which  had  made  these  marks  before  I 
parted  with  a  secret  which,  once  told,  would  make 
or  mar  me.  Yet  to  obtain  the  slight  concession  of 
an  interview  with  any  of  the  principals  connected 
with  this  crime  would  be  difficult  without  the  aid  of 
one  or  both  of  my  superiors.  Even  to  enter  the 
house  again  where  but  a  few  hours  before  I  had 
made  myself  so  thoroughly  at  home  would  require  a 
certain  amount  of  pluck ;  for  Durbin  had  been  in- 
stalled there,  and  Durbin  was  a  watch-dog  whose 
bite  as  well  as  his  bark  I  regarded  with  considerable 
respect.  Yet  into  that  house  I  must  sooner  or  later 
go,  if  only  to  determine  whether  or  not  I  had  been 
alone  in  my  recognition  of  certain  clues  pointing 
plainly  toward  murder.  Should  I  trust  my  lucky 


GOSSIP  8S 

star  and  remain  for  the  nonce  quiescent?  This 
seemed  a  wise  suggestion  and  I  decided  to  adopt  it, 
comforting  myself  with  the  thought  that  if  after  a 
day  or  two  of  modest  waiting  I  failed  in  obtaining 
what  I  wished,  I  could  then  appeal  to  the  lieutenant 
of  my  own  precinct.  He,  I  had  sometimes  felt  as- 
sured, did  not  regard  me  with  an  altogether  un- 
favorable eye. 

Meantime  I  spent  all  my  available  time  in  loiter- 
ing around  newspaper  offices  and  picking  up  such 
stray  bits  of  gossip  as  were  offered.  As  no  ques- 
tion had  yet  been  raised  of  any  more  serious  crime 
than  suicide,  these  mostly  related  to  the  idiosyn- 
crasies of  the  Moore  family  and  the  solitary  posi- 
tion into  which  Miss  Tuttle  had  been  plunged  by 
this  sudden  death  of  her  only  relative.  As  this 
beautiful  and  distinguished  young  woman  had  been 
and  still  was  a  great  belle  in  her  special  circle,  her 
present  homeless,  if  not  penniless,  position  led  to 
many  surmises.  Would  she  marry,  and,  if  so,  to 
which  of  the  many  wealthy  or  prominent  men  who 
had  openly  courted  her  would  she  accord  her  hand  ? 
In  the  present  egotistic  state  of  my  mind  I  secretly 
flattered  myself  that  I  was  right  in  concluding  that 
she  would  say  yes  to  no  man's  entreaty  till  a  certain 
newly-made  widower's  year  of  mourning  had  ex- 
pired. 

But  this  opinion  received  something  of  a  check 


84  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

when  in  a  quiet  talk  with  a  reporter  I  learned  that 
it  was  openly  stated  by  those  who  had  courage  to 
speak  that  the  tie  which  had  certainly  existed  at 
one  time  between  Mr.  Jeffrey  and  the  handsome 
Miss  Tuttle  had  been  entirely  of  her  own  weaving, 
and  that  the  person  of  Veronica  Moore,  rather  than 
the  large  income  she  commanded,  had  been  the  at- 
tractive power  which  had  led  him  away  from  the 
older  sister.  This  seemed  improbable;  for  the 
charms  of  the  poor  little  bride  were  not  to  be  com- 
pared with  those  of  her  maturer  sister.  Yet,  as  we 
all  know,  there  are  other  attractions  than  those 
offered  by  beauty.  I  have  since  heard  it  broadly 
stated  that  the  peculiar  twitch  of  the  lip  observable 
in  all  the  Moores  had  proved  an  irresistible  charm 
in  the  unfortunate  Veronica,  making  her  a  radiant 
image  when  she  laughed.  This  was  by  no  means 
a  rare  occurrence,  so  they  said,  before  the  fancy 
took  her  to  be  married  in  the  ill-starred  home  of 
her  ancestors. 

The  few  lines  of  attempted  explanation  which 
she  had  left  behind  for  her  husband  seemed  to  im- 
pose on  no  one.  To  those  who  knew  the  young 
couple  well  it  was  an  open  proof  of  her  insanity; 
to  those  who  knew  them  slightly,  as  well  as  to  the 
public  at  large,  it  was  a  woman's  way  of  expressing 
the  disappointment  she  felt  in  her  husband. 

That  I  might  the  more  readily  determine  which 


GOSSIP  85 

of  these  two  theories  had  the  firmest  basis  in  fact, 
I  took  advantage  of  an  afternoon  off  and  slipped 
away  to  Alexandria,  where,  I  had  been  told,  Mr. 
Jeffrey  had  courted  his  bride.  I  wanted  a  taste 
of  local  gossip,  you  see,  and  I  got  it.  The  air  was 
fully  charged  with  it,  and  being  careful  not  to 
rouse  antagonism  by  announcing  myself  a  detec- 
tive, I  readily  picked  up  many  small  facts. 
Brought  into  shape  and  arranged  in  the  form  of  a 
narrative,  the  result  was  as  follows: 

John  Judson  Moore,  the  father  of  Veronica,  had 
fewer  oddities  than  the  other  members  of  this  ec- 
centric family.  It  was  thought,  however,  that  he 
had  shown  some  strain  of  the  peculiar  independ- 
ence of  his  race  when,  in  selecting  a  wife,  he  let 
his  choice  fall  on  a  widow  who  was  not  only  in- 
cumbered  with  a  child,  but  who  was  generally 
regarded  as  the  plainest  woman  in  Virginia — he 
who  might  have  had  the  pick  of  Southern  beauty. 
But  when  in  the  course  of  time  this  despised  woman 
proved  to  be  the  possessor  of  those  virtues  and 
social  graces  which  eminently  fitted  her  to  con- 
duct the  large  establishment  of  which  she  had  been 
made  mistress,  he  was  forgiven  his  lack  of  taste. 
Little  more  was  said  of  his  peculiarities  until,  his 
wife  having  died  and  his  child  proved  weakly,  he 
made  the  will  in  his  brother's  favor  which  has  since 
given  that  gentleman  such  deep  satisfaction. 


86  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

Why  this  proceeding  should  have  been  so  dis^ 
pleasing  to  their  friends  report  says  not ;  but  that 
it  was  so,  is  evident  from  the  fact  that  great  re- 
joicing took  place  on  all  sides  when  Veronica  sud- 
denly developed  into  a  healthy  child  and  the  prob- 
ability of  David  Moore's  inheriting  the  coveted 
estate  decreased  to  a  minimum.  It  was  not  a  long 
rejoicing,  however,  for  John  Judson  followed  his 
wife  to  the  grave  before  Veronica  had  reached  her 
tenth  year,  leaving  her  and  her  half -sister,  Cora,  to 
the  guardianship  of  a  crabbed  old  bachelor  who 
had  been  his  father's  lawyer.  This  lawyer  was 
morose  and  peevish,  but  he  was  never  positively 
unkind.  For  two  years  the  sisters  seemed  happy 
enough  when,  suddenly  and  somewhat  peremptor- 
ily, they  were  separated,  Veronica  being  sent 
to  a  western  school,  where  she  remained,  seemingly 
without  a  single  visit  east,  till  she  was  seventeen. 
During  this  long  absence  Miss  Tuttle  resided  in 
Washington,  developing  under  masters  into  an  ac- 
complished woman.  Veronica's  guardian,  severe  in 
his  treatment  of  the  youthful  owner  of  the  large 
fortune  of  which  he  had  been  made  sole  executor, 
was  unexpectedly  generous  to  the  penniless  sister, 
hoping,  perhaps,  in  his  close,  peevish  old  heart, 
that  the  charms  and  acquired  graces  of  this  lovely 
woman  would  soon  win  for  her  a  husband  in  the 
brilliant  set  in  which  she  naturally  found  Kerself. 


GOSSIP  87 

But  Cora  Tuttle  was  not  easy  to  please,  and  the 
first  men  of  Washington  came  and  went  before  her 
eyes  without  awakening  in  her  any  special  interest 
till  she  met  Francis  Jeffrey,  who  stole  her  heart  with 
a  look. 

Those  who  remember  her  that  winter  say  that 
under  his  influence  she  developed  from  a  handsome 
woman  into  a  lovely  one.  Yet  no  engagement  was 
announced,  and  society  was  wondering  what  held 
Francis  Jeffrey  back  from  so  great  a  prize,  when 
Veronica  Moore  came  home,  and  the  question  was 
forever  answered. 

Veronica  was  now  nearly  eighteen,  and  during 
her  absence  had  blossomed  into  womanhood.  Sho 
was  not  as  beautiful  as  her  sister,  but  she  had  a 
bright  and  pleasing  expression  with  enough  spice 
in  her  temperament  to  rob  her  girlish  features 
of  insipidity  and  make  her  conversation  witty, 
if  not  brilliant.  Yet  when  Francis  Jeffrey  turned 
his  attentions  from  Miss  Tuttle  and  fixed  them 
without  reserve,  or  seeming  shame,  upon  this 
pretty  butterfly,  but  one  term  could  be  found  to 
characterize  the  proceeding,  and  that  was,  fortune 
hunting.  Of  small  but  settled  income,  he  had  hith- 
erto shown  a  certain  contentment  with  his  condition 
calculated  to  inspire  respect  and  make  his  atten- 
tions to  Miss  Tuttle  seem  both  consistent  and  ap- 
propriate. But  no  sooner  did  Veronica's  bright 


88  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

eyes  appear  than  he  fell  at  the  young  heiress'  feet 
and  pressed  his  suit  so  close  and  fast  that  in  two 
months  they  were  engaged  and  at  the  end  of  the 
half-year,  married — with  the  disastrous  conse- 
quences just  made  known. 

So  much  for  the  general  gossip  of  the  town. 
Now  for  the  special. 

A  certain  gentleman,  whom  it  is  unnecessary  to 
name,  had  been  present  at  one  critical  instant  in  the 
lives  of  these  three  persons.  He  was  not  a  scandal- 
monger, and  if  everything  had  gone  on  happily, — 
if  Veronica  had  lived  and  Cora  settled  down  into 
matrimony, — he  would  never  have  mentioned  what 
he  heard  and  saw  one  night  in  the  great  drawing- 
room  of  a  hotel  in  Atlantic  City. 

It  was  at  the  time  when  the  engagement  was 
first  announced  between  Jeffrey  and  the  young 
heiress.  This  and  his  previous  attentions  to  Cora 
had  made  much  talk,  both  in  Washington  and 
elsewhere,  and  there  were  not  lacking  those  who 
had  openly  twitted  him  for  his  seeming  incon- 
stancy. This  had  been  over  the  cups  of  course, 
and  Jeffrey  had  borne  it  well  enough  from  his 
so-called  friends  and  intimates.  But  when,  on  a 
certain  evening  in  the  parlor  of  one  of  the  large 
hotels  in  Atlantic  City,  a  fellow  whom  nobody 
knew  and  nobody  liked  accused  him  of  knowing 
on  which  side  his  bread  was  buttered,  and  that  cer- 
tainly it  was  not  on  the  side  of  beauty  and  superior 


GOSSIP  89 

attainments,  Jeffrey  got  angry.  Heedless  of  who 
might  be  within  hearing,  he  spoke  up  very  plainly 
in  these  words:  "You  are  all  of  a  kind,  rank 
money-worshipers  and  self-seekers,  or  you  would 
not  be  so  ready  to  see  greed  in  my  admiration  for 
Miss  Moore.  Disagreeable  as  I  find  it  to  air  my 
sentiments  in  this  public  manner,  yet  since  you  pro- 
voke me  to  it,  I  will  say  once  and  for  all,  that  I  am 
deeply  in  love  with  Miss  Moore,  and  that  it  is  for 
this  reason  only  I  am  going  to  marry  her. 
Were  she  the  penniless  girl  her  sister  is,  and  Miss 
Tuttle  the  proud  possessor  of  the  wealth  which,  in 
your  eyes,  confers  such  distinction  upon  Miss 
Moore,  you  would  still  see  me  at  the  latter's  feet, 
and  at  hers  only.  Miss  Tuttle's  charms  are  not 
potent  enough  to  hold  the  heart  which  has  once 
been  fixed  by  her  sister's  smile." 

This  was  pointed  enough,  certainly,  but  when  at 
the  conclusion  of  his  words  a  tall  figure  rose  from  a 
near  corner  and  Cora  Tuttle  passed  the  amazed 
group  with  a  bow,  I  dare  warrant  that  not  one  of 
the  men  composing  it  but  wished  himself  a  hun- 
dred miles  away. 

Jeffrey  himself  was  chagrined,  and  made  a  move 
to  follow  the  woman  he  had  so  publicly  scorned, 
but  the  look  she  cast  back  at  him  was  one  to  re- 
member, and  he  hesitated.  What  was  there  left  for 
him  to  say,  or  even  to  do?  The  avowal  had  been 
made  in  all  its  bald  frankness  and  nothing  could 


90  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

alter  it.  As  for  her,  she  behaveql  beautifully,  and 
by  no  word  or  look,  so  far  as  the  world  knew,  ever 
showed  that  her  woman's  pride,  if  not  her  heart, 
had  been  cut  to  the  quick,  by  the  one  man  she 
adored. 

With  this  incident  filling  my  mind,  I  returned 
to  Washington.  I  had  acquainted  myself  with 
the  open  facts  of  this  family's  history ;  but  what 
of  its  inner  life?  Who  knew  it?  Did  any  one? 
Even  the  man  who  confided  to  me  the  contretemps 
in  the  hotel  parlor  could  not  be  sure  what  underlay 
Mr.  Jeffrey's  warm  advocacy  of  the  woman  ha 
had  elected  to  marry.  He  could  not  even  be  cer- 
tain that  he  had  really  understood  the  feeling 
shown  by  Cora  Tuttle  when  she  heard  the  man,  who 
had  once  lavished  attentions  on  her,  express  in  this 
public  manner  a  preference  for  her  sister.  A 
woman  has  great  aptness  in  concealing  a  mortal 
hurt,  and,  from  what  I  had  seen  of  this  one,  I 
thought  it  highly  improbable  that  all  was  quiet  in 
her  passionate  breast  because  she  had  turned  an 
impassive  front  to  the  world. 

I  was  becoming  confused  in  the  maze  of  my  own 
imaginings.  To  escape  the  results  of  this  con- 
fusion, I  determined  to  drop  theory  and  confine 
myself  to  facts. 

And  thus  passed  the  first  few  days  succeeding 
the  tragic  discovery  in  the  Moore  house. 


VII 


SLY  WORK 


The  next  morning  my  duty  led  me  directly  in 
the  way  of  that  little  friend  of  mine  whom  I  have 
already  mentioned.  It  is  strange  how  often  my 
duty  did  lead  me  in  her  way. 

She  is  a  demure  little  creature,  with  wits  as  bright 
as  her  eyes,  which  is  saying  a  great  deal;  and 
while,  in  the  course  of  our  long  friendship,  I  had 
admired,  without  making  use  of  the  special  abili- 
ties I  saw  in  her,  I  felt  that  the  time  had  now  come 
when  they  might  prove  of  inestimable  value  to  me. 

Greeting  her  with  pardonable  abruptness,  I  ex- 
pressed my  wishes  in  these  possibly  alarming 
words : 

"Jinny,  you  can  do  something  for  me.  Find 
out — I  know  you  can,  and  that,  too,  without  arous- 
ing suspicion  or  compromising  either  of  us — where 
Mr.  Moore,  of  Waverley  Avenue,  buys  his  grocer- 
ies, and  when  you  have  done  that,  whether  or  not 
he  has  lately  resupplied  himself  with  candles." 

The  surprise  which  she  showed  had  a  touch  of 
naivete  in  it  which  was  very  encouraging. 
91 


92  THE   FILIGREE    BALL 

"Mr.  Moore?"  she  cried,  "the  uncle  of  her  who — 
who—" 

"The  very  same,"  I  responded,  and  waited  for 
her  questions  without  adding  a  single  word  in  way 
of  explanation. 

She  gave  me  a  look — oh,  what  a  look !  It  was  as 
encouraging  to  the  detective  as  it  was  welcome  to 
the  lover;  after  which  she  nodded,  once  in  doubt, 
once  in  question  and  once  in  frank  and  laughing 
consent,  and  darted  off. 

I  thanked  Providence  for  sucH  a  self-contained 
little  aide-de-camp  and  proceeded  on  my  way,  in  a 
state  of  great  self-satisfaction. 

An  hour  later  I  came  upon  her  again.  It  is 
really  extraordinary  how  frequently  the  paths  of 
some  people  cross. 

"Well?"  I  asked. 

"Mr.  Moore  deals  with  Simpkins,  just  two  blocks 
away  from  his  house;  and  only  a  week  ago  he 
bought  some  candles  there." 

I  rewarded  her  with  a  smile  which  summoned  into 
view  the  most  exasperating  of  dimples. 

"You  had  better  patronize  Simpkins  yourself 
for  a  little  while,"  I  suggested;  and  by  the  arch 
glance  with  which  my  words  were  received,  I  per- 
ceived that  my  meaning  was  fully  understood. 

Experiencing  from  this  moment  an  increased 
confidence,  not  only  in  the  powers  of  my  little 


SLY  WORK  93 

friend,  but  In  the  line  of  investigation  thus  hap- 
pily established,  I  cast  about  for  means  of  settling 
the  one  great  question  which  was  a  necessary  pre- 
liminary to  all  future  action :  Whether  the  marks 
detected  by  me  in  the  dust  of  the  mantel  in  the 
southwest  chamber  had  been  made  by  the  hand  of 
him  who  had  lately  felt  the  need  of  candles,  albeit 
his  house  appeared  to  be  fully  lighted  by  gas? 

The  subterfuge  by  which,  notwithstanding  my 
many  disadvantages,  I  was  finally  enabled  to  obtain 
an  unmistakable  answer  to  this  query  was  the 
fruit  of  much  hard  thought.  Perhaps  I  was  too 
proud  of  it.  Perhaps  I  should  have  mistrusted 
myself  more  from  the  start.  But  I  was  a  great 
egotist  in  those  days,  and  reckoned  quite  above 
their  inherent  worth  any  bright  ideas  which  I  could 
safely  call  my  own. 

The  point  aimed  at  was  this:  to  obtain  without 
Mr.  Moore's  knowledge  an  accurate  impression  of 
his  finger-tips. 

The  task  presented  difficulties,  but  these  served 
only  to  increase  my  ardor. 

Confiding  to  the  lieutenant  of  the  precinct 
my  great  interest  in  the  mysterious  house  with 
whose  suggestive  interior  I  had  made  myself  ac- 
quainted under  such  tragic  circumstances,  I  asked 
him  as  a  personal  favor  to  obtain  for  me  an 
opportunity  of  spending  another  night  there. 


94  THE   FILIGREE   BALL 

He  was  evidently  surprised  by  the  request,  not 
cherishing,  as  I  suppose,  any  great  longings  himself 
in  this  direction ;  but  recognizing  that  for  some  rea- 
son I  set  great  store  on  this  questionable  privilege, 
— I  do  not  think  that  he  suspected  in  the  least  what 
that  reason  was, — and  being,  as  I  have  intimated, 
favorably  disposed  to  me,  he  exerted  himself  to 
such  good  effect  that  I  was  formally  detailed  to 
assist  in  keeping  watch  over  the  premises  that  very 
night. 

I  think  that  it  was  at  this  point  I  began  to  reckon 
on  the  success  which,  after  many  failures  and  some 
mischances,  was  yet  to  reward  my  efforts. 

As  I  prepared  to  enter  the  old  house  at  night- 
fall, I  allowed  myself  one  short  glance  across  the 
way  to  see  if  my  approach  had  been  observed  by 
the  man  whose  secret,  if  secret  he  had,  I  was  laying 
plans  to  surprise.  I  was  met  by  a  sight  I  had 
not  expected.  Pausing  on  the  pavement  in  front 
of  me  stood  a  handsome  elderly  gentleman  whose 
appearance  was  so  fashionable  and  thoroughly  up 
to  date,  that  I  should  have  failed  to  recognize 
him  if  my  glance  had  not  taken  in  at  the  same 
instant  the  figure  of  Rudge  crouching  obstinately 
on  the  edge  of  the  curb  where  he  had  evidently 
posted  himself  in  distinct  refusal  to  come  any  far- 
ther. In  vain  his  master,— for  the  well-dressed 


SLY  WORK  95 

man  before  me  was  no  less  a  personage  than  the 
Whilom  butt  of  all  the  boys  between  the  Capitol 
and  the  Treasury  building, — signaled  and  com- 
manded him  to  cross  to  his  side ;  nothing  could  in- 
duce the  mastiff  to  budge  from  that  quarter  of  the 
street  where  he  felt  himself  safe. 

Mr.  Moore,  glorying  in  the  prospect  of  unlimited 
wealth,  presented  a  startling  contrast  in  more  ways 
than  one  to  the  poverty-stricken  old  man  whose 
curious  garb  and  lonely  habits  had  made  him  an 
object  of  ridicule  to  half  the  town.  I  own  that  I 
was  half  amused  and  half  awed  by  the  condescend- 
ing bow  with  which  he  greeted  my  offhand  nod  and 
the  affable  way  in  which  he  remarked : 

"You  are  making  use  of  your  prerogatives  as  a 
member  of  the  police,  I  see." 

The  words  came  as  easily  from  his  lips  as  if  his 
practice  in  affability  had  been  of  the  very  longest. 

"I  wonder  how  the  old  place  enjoys  its  present 
distinction,"  he  went  on,  running  his  eye  over  the 
dilapidated  walls  under  which  we  stood,  with  very 
evident  pride  in  their  vast  proportions  and  the  air 
of  gloomy  grandeur  which  signalized  them.  "If  it 
partakes  in  the  slightest  degree  of  the  feelings  of 
its  owner,  I  can  vouch  for  its  impatience  at  the 
free  use  which  is  made  of  its  time-worn  rooms  and 
halls.  Are  these  intrusions  necessary?  Now  that 


96  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

Mrs.  Jeffrey's  body  has  been  removed,  do  you  feel 
that  the  scene  of  her  demise  need  hold  the  atten- 
tion of  the  police  any  longer?" 

"That  is  a  question  to  put  to  the  superintendent 
and  not  to  me,"  was  my  deprecatory  reply.  "The 
major  has  issued  no  orders  for  the  watch  to  be 
taken  off,  so  we  men  have  no  choice.  I  am  sorry  if 
it  offends  you.  Doubtless  a  few  days  will  end  the 
matter  and  the  keys  will  be  given  into  your  hand. 
I  suppose  you  are  anxious  to  move  in?" 

He  cast  a  glance  behind  him  at  his  dog,  gave  a 
whistle  which  passed  unheeded,  and  replied  with 
dignity,  if  but  little  heart : 

"When  a  man  has  passed  his  seventh  decade  he 
is  not  apt  to  be  so  patient  with  delay  as  when  he 
has  a  prospect  of  many  years  before  him.  I  am 
anxious  to  enter  my  own  house,  yes;  I  have  much 
to  do  there." 

I  came  very  near  asking  him  what,  but  feared 
to  seem  too  familiar,  in  case  he  was  the  cold  but 
upright  man  he  would  fain  appear,  and  too  inter- 
ested and  inquiring  if  he  were  the  whited  sepulcher 
I  secretly  considered  him.  So  with  a  nod  a  trifle 
more  pronounced  than  if  I  had  been  unaffected  by 
either  hypothesis,  I  remounted  the  steps,  carelessly 
remarking : 

"I'll  see  you  again  after  taking  a  turn  through 
the  house.  If  I  discover  anything — ghost  marks 


SLY  WORK  97 

or  human  marks  which  might  be  of  interest  to  you — 
I'll  let  you  know." 

Something  like  a  growl  answered  me.  But 
whether  it  came  from  master  or  dog,  I  did  not  stop 
to  inquire.  I  had  serious  work  before  me ;  very  seri- 
ous, considering  that  it  was  to  be  done  on  my  own 
responsibility  and  without  the  knowledge  of  my 
superiors.  But  I  was  sustained  by  the  thought 
that  no  whisper  of  murder  had  as  yet  been  heard 
abroad  or  at  headquarters,  and  that  consequently 
I  was  interfering  in  no  great  case;  merely  trying 
to  formulate  one. 

It  was  necessary,  for  the  success  of  my  plan, 
that  some  time  should  elapse  before  I  reapproached 
Mr.  Moore.  I  therefore  kept  my  word  to  him 
and  satisfied  my  own  curiosity  by  taking  a  fresh 
tour  through  the  house.  Naturally,  in  doing  this, 
I  visited  the  library.  Here  all  was  dark.  The 
faint  twilight  still  illuminating  the  streets  failed 
to  penetrate  here.  I  was  obliged  to  light  my 
lantern. 

My  first  glance  was  toward  the  fireplace.  Ven- 
turesome hands  had  been  there.  Not  only  had  the 
fender  been  drawn  out  and  the  grate  set  aside, 
but  the  huge  settle  had  been  wrenched  free  from  the 
mantel  and  dragged  into  the  center  of  the  room. 
Rather  pleased  at  this  change,  for  with  all  my  ap- 
parent bravado  I  did  not  enjoy  too  close  a  proxim- 


98  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

ity  to  the  cruel  hearthstone,  I  stopped  to  give  this 
settle  a  thorough  investigation.  The  result  was 
disappointing.  To  all  appearance — and  I  did  not 
spare  it  the  experiment  of  many  a  thump  and 
knock —  it  was  a  perfectly  innocuous  piece  of  fur- 
niture, clumsy  of  build,  but  solid  and  absolutely 
devoid  of  anything  that  could  explain  the  trag- 
edies which  had  occurred  so  near  it.  I  even  sat 
down  on  its  musty  old  cushion  and  shut  my  eyes, 
but  was  unrewarded  by  alarming  visions,  or  dis- 
turbance of  any  sort.  Nor  did  the  floor  where  it 
had  stood  yield  any  better  results  to  the  inquiring 
eye.  Nothing  was  to  be  seen  there  but  the  marks 
left  by  the  removal  of  its  base  from  the  blackened 
boards. 

Disgusted  with  myself,  if  not  with  this  object 
of  my  present  disappointment,  I  left  that  portion 
of  the  room  in  which  it  stood  and  crossed  to  where 
I  had  found  the  little  table  on  the  night  of  Mrs. 
Jeffrey's  death.  It  was  no  longer  there.  It  had 
been  set  back  against  the  wall  where  it  properly 
belonged,  and  the  candelabrum  removed.  Nor  was 
the  kitchen  chair  any  longer  to  be  seen  near  the 
book  shelves.  This  fact,  small  as  it  was,  caused 
me  an  instant  of  chagrin.  I  had  intended  to  look 
again  at  the  book  which  I  had  examined  with  such 
unsatisfactory  results  the  time  before.  A  glance 
showed  me  that  this  book  had  been  pushed  back 


SLY  WORK  M 

level  with  the  others;  but  I  remembered  its  title, 
and,  had  the  means  of  reaching  it  been  at  hand,  I 
should  certainly  have  stolen  another  peep  at  it. 

Upstairs  I  found  the  same  signs  of  police  inter- 
ference. The  shutter  had  been  fastened  in  the 
southwest  room,  and  the  bouquet  and  wrap  taken 
away  from  the  bed.  The  handkerchief,  also,  was 
missing  from  the  mantel  where  I  had  left  it,  and 
when  I  opened  the  closet  door,  it  was  to  find  the  floor 
bare  and  the  second  candelabrum  and  candle  re- 
moved. 

"All  gone,"  thought  I;  "each  and  every  clue." 
But  I  was  mistaken.  In  another  moment  I  came 
upon  the  minute  filings  I  had  before  observed  scat- 
tered over  a  small  stand.  Concluding  from  this 
that  they  had  been  passed  over  by  Durbin  and  his 
associates  as  valueless,  I  swept  them,  together  with 
the  dust  in  which  they  lay,  into  an  old  envelope 
I  happily  found  in  my  pocket.  Then  I  crossed 
to  the  mantel  and  made  a  close  inspection  of  its 
now  empty  shelf.  The  scratches  which  I  had  made 
there  were  visible  enough,  but  the  impressions  for 
which  they  stood  had  vanished  in  the  handling 
which  everything  in  the  house  had  undergone.  Re- 
garding with  great  thankfulness  the  result  of  my 
own  foresight,  I  made  haste  to  leave  the  room.  I 
then  proceeded  to  take  my  first  steps  in  the  ticklish 
experiment  by  which  I  hoped  to  determine  whether 


100  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

Uncle  David  had  had  any  share  in  the  fatal  busi- 
ness which  had  rendered  the  two  rooms  I  had  just 
visited  so  memorable. 

First,  satisfying  myself  by  a  peep  through  the 
front  drawing-room  window  that  he  was  positively 
at  watch  behind  the  vines,  I  went  directly  to  the 
kitchen,  procured  a  chair  and  carried  it  into  the 
library,  where  I  put  it  to  a  use  that,  to  an  onlook- 
er's eye,  would  have  appeared  very  peculiar. 
Planting  it  squarely  on  the  hearthstone, — not 
without  some  secret  perturbation  as  to  what  the 
results  might  be  to  myself, — I  mounted  it  and 
took  down  the  engraving  which  I  have  already  de- 
scribed as  hanging  over  this  mantelpiece. 

Setting  it  on  end  against  one  of  the  jambs  of 
the  fireplace,  I  mounted  the  chair  once  more  and 
carefully  sifted  over  the  high  shelf  the  contents 
of  a  little  package  which  I  had  brought  with  me 
for  this  purpose. 

Then,  leaving  the  chair  where  it  was,  I  betook 
myself  out  of  the  front  door,  ostentatiously  stop- 
ping to  lock  it  and  to  put  the  key  in  my  pocket. 

Crossing  immediately  to  Mr.  Moore's  side  of  the 
street,  I  encountered  him  as  I  had  expected  to  do, 
at  his  own  gateway. 

"Well,  what  now?"  he  inquired,  with  the  same 
exaggerated  courtesy  I  had  noticed  in  him  on  a 
previous  occasion.  "You  have  the  air  of  a  man 


SLY  WORK  101 

bringing  news.  Has  anything  fresh  happened  in 
the  old  house?" 

I  assumed  a  frankness  which  seemed  to  impose  on 
him. 

"Do  you  know,"  I  sententiously  informed  him, 
"I  have  a  wonderful  interest  in  that  old  hearth- 
stone ;  or  rather  in  the  seemingly  innocent  engrav- 
ing hanging  over  it,  of  Benjamin  Franklin  at  the 
Court  of  France.  I  tell  you  frankly  that  I  had  no 
idea  of  what  would  be  found  behind  the  picture." 

I  saw,  by  his  quick  look,  that  I  had  stirred  up  a 
hornets'  nest.  This  was  just  what  I  had  calcu- 
lated to  do. 

"Behind  it!"  he  repeated.  "There  is  nothing 
behind  it." 

I  laughed,  shrugged  my  shoulders,  and  backed 
slowly  toward  the  door. 

"Of  course,  you  should  know,"  I  retorted,  with 
some  condescension.  Then,  as  if  struck  by  a  sud- 
den remembrance :  "Oh,  by  the  way,  have  you  been 
told  that  there  is  a  window  on  that  lower  floor  which 
does  not  stay  fastened?  I  speak  of  it  that  you  may 
have  it  repaired  as  soon  as  the  police  vacate.  It's 
the  last  one  in  the  hall  leading  to  the  negro  quar- 
ters. If  you  shake  it  hard  enough,  the  catch  falls 
back  and  any  one  can  raise  it  even  from  the  out- 
side." 

"I  will  see  to  it,"  he  replied,  dropping  his  eyes, 


102  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

possibly  to  hide  their  curious  twinkle.  "But  what 
do  you  mean  about  finding  something  in  the  wall 
behind  that  old  picture  ?  I've  never  heard — " 

But  though  he  spoke  quickly  and  shouted  the  last 
words  after  me  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  I  was  by 
this  time  too  far  away  to  respond  save  by  a  dubious 
smile  and  a  semi-patronizing  wave  of  the  hand. 
Not  until  1  was  nearly  out  of  earshot  did  I  venture 
to  shout  back  the  following  words : 

"I'll  be  back — in  an  hour.  If  anything  hap- 
pens— if  the  boys  annoy  you,  or  any  one  attempts 
to  enter  the  old  house,  telephone  to  the  station  or 
summon  the  officer  at  the  corner.  I  don't  believe 
any  harm  will  come  from  leaving  the  place  to  itself 
for  a  while."  Then  I  walked  around  the  block. 

When  I  arrived  in  front  again  it  was  quite  dark. 
So  was  the  house ;  but  there  was  light  in  the  libra- 
ry. I  felt  assured  that  I  should  find  Uncle 
t)avid  there,  and  I  did.  When,  after  a  noiseless 
entrance  and  a  careful  advance  through  the  hall, 
I  threw  open  the  door  beyond  the  gilded  pillars, 
it  was  to  see  the  tall  figure  of  this  old  man  mounted 
upon  the  chair  I  had  left  there,  peering  up  at  the 
nail  from  which  I  had  so  lately  lifted  the  picture. 
He  started  as  I  presented  myself  and  almost  fell 
from  the  chair.  But  the  careless  laugh  I  uttered 
assured  him  of  the  little  importance  I  placed 
upon  this  evidence  of  his  daring  and  unappeasable 


SLY  WORK  103 

curiosity,  and  he  confronted  me  with  an  enviable 
air  of  dignity ;  whereupon  I  managed  to  say : 

"Really,  Mr.  Moore,  I'm  glad  to  see  you  here. 
It  is  quite  natural  for  you  to  wish  to  learn  by  any 
means  in  your  power  what  that  picture  concealed. 
I  came  back,  because  I  suddenly  remembered  that 
I  had  forgotten  to  rehang  it." 

Involuntarily  he  glanced  again  at  the  wall  over- 
head, which  was  as  bare  as  his  hand,  save  for  the 
nail  he  had  already  examined. 

"It  has  concealed  nothing,"  he  retorted.  "You 
can  see  yourself  that  the  wall  is  bare  and  that  it 
rings  as  sound  as  any  chimneypiece  ever  made." 
Here  he  struck  it  heavily  with  his  fist.  "What  did 
you  imagine  that  you  had  found  ?" 

I  smiled,  shrugged  my  shoulders  in  tantalizing 
repetition  of  my  former  action  upon  a  like  occa- 
sion and  then  answered  brusquely: 

"I  did  not  come  back  to  betray  police  secrets, 
but  to  restore  this  picture  to  its  place.  Or  perhaps 
you  prefer  to  have  it  down  rather  than  up?  It 
isn't  much  of  an  ornament." 

He  scrutinized  me  darkly  from  over  his  shoulder, 
a  wary  gleam  showing  itself  in  his  shrewd  old  eyes ; 
and  the  idea  crossed  me  that  the  moment  might 
possess  more  significance  than  appeared.  But  I  did 
not  step  backward,  nor  give  evidence  in  any  way 
that  I  had  even  thought  of  danger.  I  simply  laid 


104  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

my  hand  on  the  picture  and  looked  up  at  him  for 
orders. 

He  promptly  signified  that  he  wished  it  hung, 
adding  as  I  hesitated  these  words:  "The  pic- 
tures in  this  house  are  supposed  to  stay  on  the 
walls  where  they  belong.  There  is  a  traditional 
superstition  against  removing  them." 

I  immediately  lifted  the  print  from  the  floor.  No 
doubt  he  had  me  at  a  disadvantage,  if  evil  was  in  his 
heart,  and  my  position  on  the  hearth  was  as  danger- 
ous as  previous  events  had  proved  it  to  be.  But  it 
would  not  do  to  show  the  white  feather  at  a  moment 
when  his  fate,  if  not  my  own,  hung  in  the  balance ; 
so  motioning  him  to  step  down,  I  put  foot  on  the 
chair  and  raised  the  picture  aloft  to  hang  it.  As 
I  did  so,  he  moved  over  to  the  huge  settle  of  his 
ancestors,  and,  crossing  his  arms  over  its  back, 
surveyed  me  with  a  smile  I  rather  imagined  than 
saw. 

Suddenly,  as  I  strained  to  put  the  cord  over  the 
nail  he  called  out: 

"Look  out!  you'll  fall." 

If  he  had  intended  to  give  me  a  start  in  payment 
for  my  previous  rebuff  he  did  not  succeed ;  for  my 
nerves  had  grown  steady  and  my  arm  firm  at  the 
glimpse  I  had  caught  of  the  shelf  below  me.  The 
fine  brown  powder  I  had  scattered  there  had  been 
displaced  in  five  distinct  spots,  and  not  by  my 


SLY  WORK  105 

fingers.  I  had  preferred  to  risk  the  loss  of  my 
balance,  rather  than  rest  my  hand  on  the  shelf, 
but  he  had  taken  no  such  precaution.  The  elue 
I  so  anxiously  desired  and  for  which  I  had  so 
recklessly  worked,  was  obtained. 

But  when  half  an  hour  later  I  found  an  oppor- 
tunity of  measuring  these  marks  and  comparing 
them  with  those  upstairs,  I  did  not  enjoy  the  full 
triumph  I  had  promised  myself.  For  the  two  impres- 
sions utterly  failed  to  coincide,  thus  proving  that 
whoever  the  person  was  who  had  been  in  this  house 
with  Mrs.  Jeffrey  on  the  evening  she  died,  it  was 
not  her  uncle  David. 


VIII 

SLYER    WORK 

Let  me  repeat.  The  person  who  had  left  the 
marks  of  his  presence  in  the  upper  chamber  of  the 
Moore  house  was  not  the  man  popularly  known  as 
Uncle  David.  Who,  then,  had  it  been?  But  one 
name  suggested  itself  to  me, — Mr.  Jeffrey. 

It  was  not  so  easy  for  me  to  reach  this  man  as  it 
had  been  for  me  to  reach  his  singular  and  un- 
imaginative uncle.  In  the  first  place,  his  door  had 
been  closed  to  every  one  since  his  wife's  death. 
Neither  friends  nor  strangers  could  gain  ad- 
mittance there  unless  they  came  vested  with  au- 
thority from  the  coroner.  And  this,  even  if  I 
could  manage  to  obtain  it,  would  not  answer  in 
my  case.  What  I  had  to  say  and  do  would  bet- 
ter follow  a  chance  encounter.  But  no  chance 
encounter  with  this  gentleman  seemed  likely 
to  fall  to  my  lot,  and  finally  I  swallowed  my  pride 
and  asked  another  favor  of  the  lieutenant.  Would 
he  see  that  I  was  given  an  opportunity  for  carry- 
ing some  message,  or  of  doing  some  errand  which 
106 


SLYER  WORK  107 

would  lead  to  my  having  an  interview  with  Mr. 
Jeffrey?  If  he  would,  I  stood  ready  to  promise 
that  my  curiosity  should  stop  at  this  point  and 
that  I  would  cease  to  make  a  nuisance  of  myself. 

I  think  he  suspected  me  by  this  time;  but  he 
made  no  remark,  and  in  a  day  or  so  I  was  summoned 
to  carry  a  note  to  the  house  in  K  Street. 

Mrs.  Jeffrey's  funeral  had  taken  place  the  day 
before  and  the  house  looked  deserted.  But  my 
summons  speedily  brought  a  neat-looking,  but  very 
nervous  maid  to  the  door,  whose  eyes  took  on  an 
unmistakable  expression  of  resistance  when  I  an- 
nounced my  errand  and  asked  to  see  Mr.  Jeffrey. 
The  expression  would  not  have  struck  me  as  peculiar 
if  she  had  raised  any  objection  to  the  interview  I 
had  solicited.  But  she  did  not.  Her  fear  and  antip- 
athy, consequently,  sprang  from  some  other 
source  than  her  interest  in  the  man  most  threat- 
ened by  my  visit.  Was  it — could  it  be,  on  her  own 
account?  Recalling  what  I  had  heard  whispered 
about  the  station  concerning  a  maid  of  the  Jef- 
freys who  always  seemed  on  the  point  of  saying 
something  which  never  really  left  her  lips,  I  stopped 
her  as  she  was  about  to  slip  upstairs  and  quietly 
asked : 

"AreyouLoretta?" 

The  way  she  turned,  the  way  she  looked  at  me 
as  she  gave  me  a  short  affirmative,  and  then  quick- 


108  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

ly  proceeded  on  her  way,  convinced  me  that  my 
colleagues  were  right  as  to  her  being  a  woman 
who  had  some  cause  for  dreading  police  interfer- 
ence. I  instantly  made  up  my  mind  that  here 
was  a  mine  to  be  worked  and  that  I  knew  just  the 
demure  little  soul  best  equipped  to  act  the  part  of 
miner. 

In  a  moment  she  came  back,  and  I  had  a  chance 
to  note  again  her  pretty  but  expressionless  features, 
among  which  the  restless  eyes  alone  bespoke  char- 
acter or  decision. 

"Mr.  Jeffrey  is  in  the  back  room  upstairs,"  she 
announced.  "He  says  for  you  to  come  up." 

"Is  it  the  room  Mrs.  Jeffrey  used  to  occupy?" 
I  asked  with  open  curiosity,  as  I  passed  her. 

An  involuntary  shudder  proved  that  she  was  not 
without  feeling.  So  did  the  quick  disclaimer: 

"No,  no !  Those  rooms  are  closed.  He  occupies 
the  one  Miss  Tuttle  had  before  she  went  away." 

"Oh,  then,  Miss  Tuttle  is  gone?" 

Loretta  disdained  to  answer.  She  had  already 
said  enough  to  cause  her  to  bite  her  lip  as  she  dis- 
appeared down  the  basement  stair.  Decidedly  the 
boys  were  right.  An  uneasy  feeling  followed  any 
conversation  with  this  girl.  Yet,  while  there  was 
slyness  in  her  manner,  there  was  a  certain  frank 
honesty  visible  in  it  too,  which  caused  me  to  think 


SLYER  WORK  109 

that  if  she  could  ever  be  made  to  speak,  her  evi- 
dence could  be  relied  on. 

Mr.  Jeffrey  was  sitting  with  his  back  to  the  door 
when  I  entered,  but  turned  as  I  spoke  his  name 
and  held  out  his  hand  for  the  note  I  carried.  I 
had  no  expectation  of  his  remembering  me  as  one 
of  the  men  who  had  stood  about  that  night  in  the 
Moore  house,  and  I  was  not  disappointed.  To 
him  I  was  merely  a  messenger,  or  common  police- 
man; and  he  consequently  paid  me  no  attention, 
while  I  bestowed  upon  him  the  most  concentrated 
scrutiny  of  my  whole  life.  Till  now  I  had  seen 
him  only  in  half  .lights,  or  under  circumstances  pre- 
cluding my  getting  a  very  accurate  idea  of  him  as 
a  man  and  a  gentleman.  Now  he  sat  with  the 
broad  daylight  on  his  face,  and  I  had  every  oppor- 
tunity for  noting  both  his  features  and  expression. 
He  was  of  a  distinguished  type ;  but  the  cloud  en- 
shrouding him  was  as  heavy  as  any  I  had  ever  seen 
darkening  about  a  man  of  his  position  and  char- 
acter. His  manner,  fettered  though  it  was  by 
gloomy  thoughts,  was  not  just  the  manner  I  had 
expected  to  encounter. 

He  had  a  large,  clear  eye,  but  the  veil  which 
hid  the  brightness  of  his  regard  was  misty 
with  suspicion,  not  with  tears.  He  appeared  to 
shrink  from  observation,  and  shifted  uneasily  as 


110  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

long  as  I  stood  in  front  of  him,  though  he  said 
nothing  and  did  not  lift  his  eyes  from  the  letter 
he  was  perusing  till  he  heard  me  step  back  to  the 
door  I  had  purposely  left  open  and  softly  close  It. 
Then  he  glanced  up,  with  a  keen,  if  not  an  alarmed 
look,  which  seemed  an  exaggerated  one  for  the 
occasion, — that  is,  if  he  had  no  secret  to  keep. 

"Do  you  suffer  so  from  drafts?"  he  asked,  ris- 
ing in  a  way  which  in  itself  was  a  dismissal. 

I  smiled  an  amused  denial,  then  with  the  simple 
directness  I  thought  most  likely  to  win  me  his  con- 
fidence, entered  straight  upon  my  business  in  these 
plain  words : 

"Pardon  me,  Mr.  Jeffrey,  I  have  something  to 
say  which  is  not  exactly  fitted  for  the  ears  of  serv- 
ants." Then,  as  he  pushed  his  chair  suddenly 
back,  I  added  reassuringly:  "It  is  not  a  police 
matter,  sir,  but  an  entirely  personal  one.  It 
may  strike  you  as  important,  and  it  may  not.  Mr. 
Jeffrey,  I  was  the  man  who  made  the  unhappy  dis- 
covery in  the  Moore  mansion,  which  has  plunged 
this  house  into  mourning." 

This  announcement  startled  him  and  produced 
a  visible  change  in  his  manner.  His  eyes  flew  first 
to  one  door  and  then  to  another,  as  if  it  were  he 
who  feared  intrusion  now. 

"I  beg  your  pardon  for  speaking  on  so  painful 
a  topic,"  I  went  on,  as  soon  as  I  saw  he  was  ready 


SLYER  WORK  111 

to  listen  to  me.  "My  excuse  is  that  I  came  upon 
a  little  thing  that  same  night  which  I  have  not 
thought  of  sufficient  importance  to  mention  to  any 
one  else,  but  which  it  may  interest  you  to  hear 
about." 

Here  I  took  from  a  book  I  held,  a  piece  of  blot- 
ting-paper. It  was  white  on  one  side  and  blue  on 
the  other.  The  white  side  I  had  thickly  chalked, 
though  this  was  not  apparent.  Laying  down  this 
piece  of  blotting-paper,  chalked  side  up,  on  the 
end  of  a  large  table  near  which  we  were  standing, 
I  took  out  an  envelope  from  my  pocket,  and,  shak- 
ing it  gently  to  and  fro,  remarked: 

"In  an  upper  room  of  the  Moore  house — you  re- 
member the  southwest  chamber,  sir?" 

Ah!  didn't  he!  There  was  no  misdoubting  the 
quick  emotion — the  shrinking  and  the  alarm  with 
which  he  heard  this  room  mentioned. 

"It  was  in  that  room  that  I  found  these." 

Tipping  up  the  envelope,  I  scattered  over  the 
face  of  the  blotter  a  few  of  the  glistening  particles 
I  had  collected  from  the  place  mentioned. 

He  bent  over  them,  astonished.  Then,  as  was 
natural,  brushed  them  together  in  a  heap  with  the 
tips  of  his  fingers,  and  leaned  to  look  again,  just  as 
I  breathed  a  heavy  sigh  which  scattered  them  far 
and  wide. 

Instinctively,  he  withdrew  his  hand;  whereupon 


112  THE   FILIGKEE   BALL. 

I  embraced  the  opportunity  of  turning  the  blotter 
over,  uttering  meanwhile  the  most  profuse  apolo- 
gies. Then,  as  if  anxious  not  to  repeat  my  mis- 
adventure, I  let  the  blotter  lie  where  it  was,  and 
pouring  out  the  few  remaining  particles  into  my 
palm,  I  held  them  toward  the  light  in  such  a  way 
that  he  was  compelled  to  lean  across  the  table  in  or- 
der to  see  them.  Naturally,  for  I  had  planned  the 
distance  well,  his  finger-tips,  white  with  the  chalk 
he  had  unconsciously  handled,  touched  the  blue 
surface  of  the  blotter  now  lying  uppermost  and  left 
their  marks  there. 

I  could  have  shouted  in  my  elation  at  the  success 
of  this  risky  maneuver,  but  managed  to  suppress 
my  emotion,  and  to  stand  quite  still  while  he  took  a 
good  look  at  the  filings.  They  seemed  to  have 
great  and  unusual  interest  for  him  and  it  was  with 
no  ordinary  emotion  that  he  finally  asked  : 

"  What  do  you  make  out  of  these,  and  why  do 
you  bring  them  here  ?  " 

My  answer  was  written  under  his  hand;  but  this 
it  was  far  from  my  policy  to  impart.  So  putting 
on  my  friendliest  air,  I  returned,  with  suitable 
respect  : 

"I  don't  know  what  to  make  of  them.  They  look 
like  gold ;  but  that  is  for  you  to  decide.  Do  you 
want  them,  sir  ?" 

"No,"  he  replied,  starting  erect  and  withdrawing 


SLYER  WORK  113 

fiis  hand  from  the  blotter.  "It's  but  a  trifle,  not 
worth  our  attention.  But  I  thank  you  just  the  same 
for  bringing  it  to  my  notice." 

And  again  his  manner  became  a  plain  dismissal. 

This  time  I  accepted  it  as  such  without  question. 
Carelessly  restoring  the  piece  of  blotting-paper 
to  the  book  from  which  I  had  taken  it,  I  made  a  bow 
and  withdrew  toward  the  door.  He  seemed  to  be 
thinking,  and  the  deep  furrows  which  I  am  sure  had 
been  lacking  from  his  brow  a  week  previous,  became 
startlingly  visible.  Finally  he  observed: 

"Mrs.  Jeffrey  was  not  in  her  right  mind  when  she 
so  unhappily  took  her  life.  I  see  now  that  the 
change  in  her  dates  back  to  her  wedding  day,  con- 
sequently any  little  peculiarity  she  may  have  shown 
at  that  time  is  not  to  be  wondered  at." 

"Certainly  not,"  I  boldly  ventured ;  "if  such  pe- 
culiarities were  shown  after  the  fright  given  her  by 
the  catastrophe  which  took  place  in  the  library." 

His  eyes,  which  were  fixed  on  mine,  flashed,  and 
his  hands  closed  convulsively. 

"We  will  not  consider  the  subject,"  he  muttered, 
reseating  himself  in  the  chair  from  which  he  had 
risen. 

I  bowed  again  and  went  out.  I  did  not  dwell  on 
the  interview  in  my  own  mind  nor  did  I  allow  myself 
to  draw  any  conclusions  from  it,  till  I  had  carried 
the  blotter  into  the  southwest  chamber  of  the  Moore 


114  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

house  and  carefully  compared  the  impressions  made 
on  it  with  the  marks  I  had  scratched  on  the  sur- 
face of  the  mantel-shelf.  This  I  did  by  laying  the 
one  over  the  other,  after  having  made  holes  where 
his  finger-tips  had  touched  the  blotter. 

The  holes  in  the  blotter  and  the  marks  outlined 
upon  the  shelf  coincided  exactly. 


IX 

JINNY 

I  have  already  mentioned  the  man  whom  I  se- 
cretly looked  upon  as  standing  between  me  and  all 
preferment.  He  was  a  good-looking  fellow,  but 
he  wore  a  natural  sneer  which  for  some  reason  I 
felt  to  be  always  directed  toward  myself.  This 
sneer  grew  pronounced  about  this  time,  and  that 
was  the  reason,  no  doubt,  why  I  continued  to  work 
as  long  as  I  did  in  secret.  I  dreaded  the  open 
laugh  of  this  man,  a  laugh  which  always  seemed 
hovering  on  his  lips  and  which  was  only  held  in 
restraint  by  the  awe  we  all  felt  of  the  major. 

Notwithstanding,  I  made  one  slight  move.  En- 
countering the  deputy-coroner,  I  ventured  to  ask  if 
he  was  quite  satisfied  with  the  evidence  collected 
in  the  Jeffrey  case. 

His  surprise  did  not  prevent  him  from  asking 
my  reasons  for  this  question. 

I  replied  to  this  effect: 

"Because  I  have  a  little  friend,  winsome  enough 
and  subtile  enough  to  worm  the  truth  out  of  the 
115 


116  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

devil.  I  hear  that  the  girl  Loretta  is  suspected  of 
knowing  more  about  this  unfortunate  tragedy 
than  she  is  willing  to  impart.  If  you  wish  this  lit- 
tle friend  of  mine  to  talk  to  her,  I  will  see  that  she 
does  so  and  does  so  with  <jffect." 

The  deputy-coroner  looked  interested. 

"Whom  do  you  mean  by  'little  friend'  and  what 
is  her  name?" 

"I  will  send  her  to  you." 

And  I  did. 

The  next  day  I  was  standing  on  the  corner  of 
Vermont  Avenue  when  I  saw  Jinny  advancing  from 
the  house  in  K  Street.  She  was  chipper,  and  she 
was  smiling  in  a  way  which  made  me  say  to  myself : 

"It  is  fortunate  that  Durbin  is  not  here." 

For  Jinny's  one  weakness  is  her  lack  of  power  to 
hide  the  satisfaction  she  takes  in  any  detective 
work  that  comes  her  way.  I  had  told  her  of  this 
and  had  more  than  once  tried  to  impress  upon  her 
that  her  smile  was  a  complete  give-away,  but  I 
noticed  that  if  she  kept  it  from  her  lips,  it  forced 
its  way  out  of  her  eyes,  and  if  she  kept  it  out  of  her 
eyes,  it  beamed  like  an  inner  radiance  from  her 
whole  face.  So  I  gave  up  the  task  of  making  her 
perfect  and  let  her  go  on  smiling,  glad  that  she 
had  such  frequent  cause  for  it. 

This  morning  her  smile  had  a  touch  of  pride  in 


JINNY  117 

it  as  well  as  of  delight,  and  noting  this,  I  re- 
marked : 

"You  have  made  Loretta  talk." 

Her  head  went  up  and  a  demure  dimple  appeared 
in  her  cheek. 

"What  did  she  say?"  I  urged.  "What  has  she 
been  keeping  back?" 

"You  will  have  to  ask  the  coroner.  My  orders 
were  strict  to  bring  the  results  of  my  interview 
immediately  to  him." 

"Does  that  include  Durbin?" 

"Does  it  include  you?" 

"I  am  afraid  not." 

"You  are  right;  but  why  shouldn't  it  include 
you?" 

"What  do  you  mean,  Jinny?" 

"Why  do  you  keep  your  own  counsel  so  long? 
You  have  ideas  about  this  crime,  I  know.  Why  not 
mention  them?" 

"Jinny!" 

"A  word  to  the  wise  is  sufficient;"  she  laughed 
and  turned  her  pretty  face  toward  the  coroner's 
office.  But  she  was  a  woman  and  could  not  help 
glancing  back,  and,  meeting  my  dubious  look,  she 
broke  into  an  arch  smile  and  naively  added  this  re- 
mark :  "Loretta  is  a  busybody  ashamed  of  her  own 
curiosity.  So  much  there  can  be  no  harm  in  tell- 


118  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

ing  you.  When  one's  knowledge  has  been  gained 
by  lingering  behind  doors  and  peeping  through 
cracks,  one  is  not  so  ready  to  say  what  one  has  seen 
and  heard.  Loretta  is  in  that  box,  and  being  more 
than  a  little  scared  of  the  police,  was  glad  to  let 
her  anxiety  and  her  fears  overflow  into  a  sympa- 
thizing ear.  Won't  she  be  surprised  when  she  is 
called  up  some  fine  day  by  the  coroner !  I  wonder  if 
she  will  blame  me  for  it?" 

"She  will  never  think  of  doing  so,"  I  basely  as- 
sured my  little  friend,  with  an  appreciative  glance 
at  her  sparkling  eye  and  dimpled  cheek. 

The  arch  little  creature  started  to  move  off 
again.  As  she  did  so,  she  cried:  "Be  good,  and 
don't  let  Durbin  cut  in  on  you;"  but  stopped  for 
the  second  time  when  half  across  the  street,  and 
when,  obedient  to  her  look,  I  hastily  rejoined  her, 
she  whispered  demurely :  "Oh,  I  forgot  to  tell  you 
something  that  I  heard  this  morning,  and  which 
nobody  but  yourself  has  any  right  to  know.  I 
was  following  your  commands  and  buying  grocer- 
ies at  Simpkins',  when  just  as  I  was  coming  out 
with  my  arms  full,  I  heard  old  Mr.  Simpkins  men- 
tion Mr.  Jeffrey's  name  and  with  such  interest 
that  I  naturally  wanted  to  hear  what  he  had  to 
say.  Having  no  real  excuse  for  staying,  I  poked 
my  finger  into  a  bag  of  sugar  I  was  carrying, 
till  the  sugar  ran  out  and  I  had  to  wait  till  it 


JINNY  119 

was  put  up  again.  This  did  not  take  long,  but  it 
took  long  enough  for  me  to  hear  the  old  grocer  say 
that  he  knew  Mr.  Jeffrey,  and  that  that  gentle- 
man had  come  into  his  shop  only  a  day  or  two  be- 
fore his  wife's  death,  to  buy — candles*" 

The  archness  with  which  this  was  said,  together 
with  the  fact  itself,  made  me  her  slave  forever.  As 
her  small  figure  faded  from  sight  down  the  ave- 
nue, I  decided  to  take  her  advice  and  follow  up 
whatever  communication  she  had  to  make  to  the 
coroner  by  a  confession  of  my  own  suspicions  and 
what  they  had  led  me  into.  If  he  laughed — well, 
I  could  stand  it.  It  was  not  the  coroner's  laugh, 
nor  even  the  major's,  that  I  feared;  it  was  Dur- 
bin'g. 


FRANCIS  JEFFREY 

Jinny  had  not  been  gone  an  hour  from  the  cor- 
oner's office  when  an  opportunity  was  afforded  for 
me  to  approach  that  gentleman  myself. 

With  few  apologies  and  no  preamble,  I  immedi- 
ately entered  upon  my  story  which  I  made  as  con- 
cise and  as  much  to  the  point  as  possible.  I  did 
not  expect  praise  from  him,  but  I  did  look  for 
some  slight  show  of  astonishment  at  the  nature  of 
my  news.  I  was  therefore  greatly  disappointed, 
when,  after  a  moment's  quiet  consideration,  he  care- 
lessly remarked: 

"Very  good!  very  good!  The  one  point  you 
make  is  excellent  and  may  prove  of  use  to  us.  We 
had  reached  the  same  conclusion,  but  by  another 
road.  You  ask,  'Who  blew  out  the  candle?'  We, 
'Who  tied  the  pistol  to  Mrs.  Jeffrey's  arm?'  It 
could  not  have  been  tied  by  herself.  Who  was  her 
accessory  then?  Ah,  you  didn't  think  of  that." 

I  flushed  as  if  a  pail  of  hot  water  had  been 
dashed  suddenly  over  me.  He  was  right.  The  con- 


FRANCIS  JEFFREY  121 

elusion  he  spoke  of  had  failed  to  strike  me.  Why  ? 
It  was  a  perfectly  obvious  one,  as  obvious  as  that 
the  candle  had  been  blown  out  by  another  breath 
than  hers;  yet,  absorbed  in  my  own  train  of 
thought,  I  had  completely  overlooked  it.  The  cor- 
oner observing  my  embarrassment,  smiled,  and  my 
humiliation  was  complete — or  would  have  been 
had  Durbin  been  there,  but  fortunately  he  was  not. 

"I  am  a  fool,"  I  cried.  "I  thought  I  had  dis- 
covered something.  I  might  have  known  that  there 
were  keener  minds  than  mine  in  this  office — " 

"Easy!  easy!"  was  the  good-natured  interrup- 
tion. "You  have  done  well.  If  I  did  not  think  so,  I 
would  not  keep  you  here  a  minute.  As  it  is,  I  am 
disposed  to  let  you  see  that  in  a  case  like  this,  one 
man  must  not  expect  to  monopolize  all  the  honors. 
This  matter  of  the  bow  of  ribbon  would  strike  any 
old  and  experienced  official.  I  only  wonder  that 
we  have  not  seen  it  openly  discussed  in  the  papers." 

Taking  a  box  from  his  desk,  he  opened  it  and 
held  it  out  toward  me.  A  coil  of  white  ribbon  sur- 
mounted by  a  crisp  and  dainty  bow  met  my  eyes. 

"You  recognize  it?"  he  asked. 

Indeed  I  did. 

"It  was  cut  from  her  wrist  by  my  deputy.  Miss 
Tuttle  wished  him  to  untie  it,  but  he  preferred  to 
leave  the  bow  intact.  Now  lift  it  out.  Careful, 
man,  don't  soil  it;  you  will  see  why  in  a  minute." 


122  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

As  I  held  the  ribbon  up,  he  pointed  to  some  spots 
on  its  fresh  white  surface.  "Do  you  see  those?"  he 
asked.  "Those  are  dust-marks,  and  they  were 
made  as  truly  by  some  one's  fingers,  as  the  impres- 
sions you  noted  on  the  mantel-shelf  in  the  upper 
chamber.  This  pistol  was  tied  to  her  wrist  after 
the  deed;  possibly  by  that  same  hand." 

It  was  my  own  conclusion  but  it  did  not  sound, as 
welcome  to  me  from  his  lips  as  I  had  expected. 
Either  my  nature  is  narrow,  or  my  inordinate  jeal- 
ousy lays  me  open  to  the  most  astonishing  inconsis- 
tencies; for  no  sooner  had  he  spoken  these  words 
than  I  experienced  a  sudden  revulsion  against  my 
own  theory  and  the  suspicions  which  it  threw  upon 
the  man  whom  an  hour  before  I  was  eager  to  pro- 
claim a  criminal. 

But  Coroner  Z.  gave  me  no  chance  for  making 
such  a  fool  of  myself.  Rescuing  the  ribbon  from 
my  hands,  which  no  doubt  were  running  a  little  too 
freely  over  its  snowy  surface,  he  smiled  with  the 
indulgence  proper  from  such  a  man  to  a  novice 
like  myself,  and  observed  quite  frankly: 

"You  will  consider  these  observations  as  confi- 
dential. You  know  how  to  hold  your  tongue;  that 
you  have  proved.  Hold  it  then  a  little  longer. 
The  case  is  not  yet  ripe.  Mr.  Jeffrey  is  a  man  of 
high  standing,  with  a  hitherto  unblemished  repu- 
tation. It  won't  do,  my  boy,  to  throw  the  doubt  of 


FRANCIS  JEFFREY  123 

so  hideous  a  crime  upon  so  fine  a  gentleman  without 
ample  reason.  That  no  such  mistake  may  be  made 
and  that  he  may  have  every  opportunity  for  clear- 
ing himself,  I  am  going  to  have  a  confidential  talk 
with  him.  Do  you  want  to  be  present  ?" 

I  flushed  again ;  but  this  time  from  extreme  sat- 
isfaction. 

"I  am  obliged  for  your  confidence,"  said  I; 
then,  with  a  burst  of  courage  born  of  his  good  na- 
ture, I  inquired  with  due  respect  if  my  little  friend 
had  answered  his  expectations.  "Was  she  as  clever 
as  I  said?"  I  asked. 

"Your  little  friend  is  a  trump,"  was  his  blunt 
reply.  "With  what  we  have  learned  through  her 
and  now  through  you,  we  can  approach  Mr.  Jeffrey 
to  some  purpose.  It  appears  that,  before  leaving 
the  house  on  that  Tuesday  morning,  he  had  an  in- 
terview with  his  wife  which  ought  in  some  way  to 
account  for  this  tragedy.  Perhaps  he  will  tell  us 
about  it,  and  perhaps  he  will  explain  how  he  came 
to  wander  through  the  Moore  house  while  his  wife 
lay  dying  below.  At  all  events  we  will  give  him  the 
opportunity  to  do  so  and,  if  possible,  to  clear  up 
mysteries  which  provoke  the  worst  kind  of  con- 
jecture. It  is  time.  The  ideas  advanced  by  the 
papers  foster  superstition;  and  superstition  is 
the  devil.  Go  and  tell  my  man  out  there  that  I  am 
going  to  K  Street.  You  may  say  'we'  if  you  like," 


124  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

he  added  with  a  humor  more  welcome  to  me  than 
any  serious  concession. 

Did  I  feel  set  up  by  this?    Rather. 

Mr.  Jeffrey  was  expecting  us.  This  was  evident 
from  his  first  look,  though  the  attempt  he  made  at 
surprise  was  instantaneous  and  very  well  feigned. 
Indeed,  I  think  he  was  in  a  constant  state  of  appre- 
hension during  these  days  and  that  no  inroad  of  the 
police  would  have  astonished  him.  But  expectation 
does  not  preclude  dread;  indeed  it  tends  to  foster 
it,  and  dread  was  in  his  heart.  This  he  had  no 
power  to  conceal. 

"To  what  am  I  indebted  for  this  second  visit 
from  you?"  he  asked  of  Coroner  Z.,  with  an  admir- 
able presence  of  mind.  "Are  you  not  yet  satisfied 
with  what  we  have  been  able  to  tell  you  of  my  poor 
wife's  unhappy  end?" 

"We  are  not,"  was  the  plain  response.  "There 
are  some  things  you  have  not  attempted  to  explain, 
Mr.  Jeffrey.  For  instance,  why  you  went  to  the 
Moore  house  previous  to  your  being  called  there 
by  the  death  of  your  wife." 

It  'was  a  shot  that  told ;  an  arrow  which  found 
its  mark.  Mr.  Jeffrey  flushed,  then  turned  pale, 
rallied  and  again  lost  himself  in  a  maze  of  conflict- 
ing emotions  from  which  he  only  emerged  to  say : 

"How  do  you  know  that  I  was  there?  Have  I 
said  so ;  or  do  those  old  walls  babble  in  their  sleep  ?" 


FRANCIS  JEFFREY  125 

"Old  walls  have  been  known  to  do  this,"  was 
the  grave  reply.  "Whether  they  had  anything 
to  say  in  this  case  is  at  present  quite  imma- 
terial. That  you  were  where  I  charge  you  with 
being  is  evident  from  your  own  manner.  May  I 
then  ask  if  you  have  anything  to  say  about  this 
visit?  When  a  person  has  died  under  such  peculiar 
circumstances  as  Mrs.  Jeffrey,  everything  bearing 
upon  the  case  is  of  interest  to  the  coroner." 

I  was  sorry  he  added  that  last  sentence;  sorry 
that  he  felt  obliged  to  qualify  his  action  by  any- 
thing savoring  of  apology ;  for  the  time  spent  in 
its  utterance  afforded  his  agitated  hearer  an  op- 
portunity not  only  of  collecting  himself  but  of  pre- 
paring an  answer  for  which  he  would  not  have  been 
ready  an  instant  before. 

"Mrs.  Jeffrey's  death  was  a  strange  one,"  her 
husband  admitted  with  tardy  self-control.  "I  find 
myself  as  much  at  a  loss  to  understand  it  as  you 
do,  and  am  therefore  quite  ready  to  answer  the 
question  you  have  so  openly  broached.  Not  that 
my  answer  has  any  bearing  upon  the  point  you 
wish  to  make,  but  because  it  is  your  due  and  my 
pleasure.  I  did  visit  the  Moore  house,  as  I  cer- 
tainly had  every  right  to  do.  The  property  was 
my  wife's,  and  it  was  for  my  interest  to  learn,  if  I 
could,  the  secret  of  its  many  crimes." 

"Ah!" 


126  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

Mr.  Jeffrey  looked  quickly  up.  "You  think  that 
an  odd  thing  for  me  to  do?" 

"At  night.     Yes." 

"Night  is  the  time  for  such  work.  I  did  not  care 
to  be  seen  pottering  around  there  in  daylight." 

"No?  Yet  it  would  have  been  so  much  easier. 
You  would  not  have  had  to  buy  candles  or  carry  a 
pistol  or — " 

"I  did  not  carry  a  pistol.  The  only  pistol  car- 
ried there  was  the  one  with  which  my  demented  wife 
chose  to  take  her  life.  I  do  not  understand  this 
allusion." 

"It  grew  out  of  a  misunderstanding  of  the  sit- 
uation, Mr.  Jeffrey;  excuse  me  if  I  supposed  you 
would  be  likely  to  provide  yourself  with  some  means 
of  defense  in  venturing  alone  upon  the  scene  of  so 
many  mysterious  deaths." 

"I  took  no  precaution." 

"And  needed  none,  I  suppose." 

"And  needed  none." 

"When  was  this  visit  paid,  Mr.  Jeffrey?  Be- 
fore or  after  your  wife  pulled  the  trigger  which 
ended  her  life?  You  need  not  hesitate  to  answer." 

"I  do  not."  The  elegant  gentleman  before  us 
had  acquired  a  certain  fierceness.  "Why  should  I? 
Certainly,  you  don't  think  that  I  was  there  at  the 
same  time  she  was.  It  was  not  on  the  same  night, 
even.  So  much  the  walls  should  have  told  you  and 


FRANCIS  JEFFREY  127 

probably  idid,  or  my  wife's  uncle,  Mr.  David 
Moore.  Was  he  not  your  informant?" 

"No ;  Mr.  Moore  has  failed  to  call  our  attention 
to  this  fact.  Did  you  meet  Mr.  Moore  during  the 
course  of  your  visit  to  a  neighborhood  over  which 
he  seems  to  hold  absolute  sway  ?" 

"Not  to  my  knowledge.  But  his  house  is  direct- 
ly opposite,  and  as  he  has  little  to  do  but  amuse 
himself  with  what  he  can  see  from  his  front  win- 
dow, I  concluded  that  he  might  have  observed  me 
going  in." 

"You  entered  by  the  front  door,  then?" 

"How  else?" 

"And  on  what  night?" 

Mr.  Jeffrey  made  an  effort.  These  questions 
were  visibly  harassing  him. 

"The  night  before  the  one — the  one  which — 
ended  all  my  earthly  happiness,"  he  added  in  a  low 
voice. 

Coroner  Z.  cast  a  glance  at  me.  I  remembered 
the  lack  of  dust  on  the  nest  of  little  tables  from 
which  the  upper  one  had  been  drawn  forward  to 
hold  the  candelabrum,  and  gently  shook  my  head. 
The  coroner's  eyebrows  went  up,  but  none  of  his 
disbelief  crept  into  his  voice  as  he  made  this  addi- 
tional statement : 

"The  night  on  which  you  failed  to  return  to 
your  own  house." 


128  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

Instantly  Mr.  'Jeffrey  betrayed  by  a  nervous  ac- 
tion, which  was  quite  involuntary,  that  his  outward 
calm  was  slowly  giving  way  under  a  fire  of  ques- 
tions for  which  he  had  no  ready  reply. 

"It  was  odd,  your  not  going  home  that  night," 
the  coroner  coldly  pursued.  "The  misunderstand- 
ing you  had  with  your  wife  immediately  after 
breakfast  must  have  been  a  very  serious  one ;  more 
serious  than  you  have  hitherto  acknowledged." 

"I  had  rather  not  discuss  the  subject,"  protested 
Mr.  Jeffrey.  Then  as  if  he  suddenly  recognized  the 
official  character  of  his  interlocutor,  he  hastily 
added :  "Unless  you  positively  request  me  to  do  so ; 
in  which  case  I  must." 

"I  am  afraid  that  I  must  insist  upon  it,"  re- 
turned the  other.  "You  will  find  that  it  will  be 
insisted  upon  at  the  inquest,  and  if  you  do  not  wish 
to  subject  yourself  to  much  unnecessary  unpleas- 
antness, you  had  better  make  clear  to  us  to-day  the 
cause  of  that  special  quarrel  which  to  all  intents 
and  purposes  led  to  your  wife's  death." 

"I  will  try  to  do  so,"  returned  Mr.  Jeffrey, 
rising  and  pacing  the  room  in  his  intense  rest- 
lessness. "We  did  have  some  words;  her  conduct 
the  night  before  had  not  pleased  me.  I  am  nat- 
urally jealous,  vilely  jealous,  and  I  thought  she 
was  a  little  frivolous  at  the  German  ambassador's 
ball.  But  I  had  no  idea  she  would  take  my  sharp 


FRANCIS  JEFFREY  129 

speeches  so  much  to  heart.  I  had  no  idea  that  she 
would  care  so  much  or  that  I  should  care  so  much. 
A  little  jealousy  is  certainly  pardonable  in  a  bride- 
groom, and  if  her  mind  had  not  already  been  upset, 
she  would  have  remembered  how  I  loved  her  and 
hopefully  waited  for  a  reconciliation." 

"You  did  love  your  wife,  then  ?  It  was  you  and 
not  she  who  had  a  right  to  be  jealous?  I  have 
heard  the  contrary  stated.  It  is  a  matter  of  public 
gossip  that  you  loved  another  woman  previous  to 
your  acquaintance  with  Miss  Moore;  a  woman 
whom  your  wife  regarded  with  sisterly  affection 
and  subsequently  took  into  her  new  home." 

"Miss  Tuttle?"  Mr.  Jeffrey  stopped  in  his  walk 
to  fling  out  this  ejaculation.  "I  admire  and  respect 
Miss  Tuttle,"  he  went  on  to  declare,  "but  I  never 
loved  her.  Not  as  I  did  my  wife,"  he  finished,  but 
with  a  certain  hard  accent,  apparent  enough  to  a 
sensitive  ear. 

*' Pardon  me ;  it  is  as  difficult  for  me  to  put  these 
questions  as  it  is  for  you  to  hear  them.  Were  you 
and  Miss  Tuttle  ever  engaged  ?" 

I  started.  This  was  a  question  which  half  of 
Washington  had  been  asking  itself  for  the  last 
three  months. 

Would  Mr.  Jeffrey  answer  it?  or,  remembering 
that  these  questions  were  rather  friendly  than  offi- 
cial, refuse  to  satisfy  a  curiosity  which  he  might 


130  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

well  consider  intrusive?  The  set  aspect  of  his  fea- 
tures promised  little  in  the  way  of  information, 
and  we  were  both  surprised  when  a  moment  later 
he  responded  with  a  grim  emphasis  hardly  to  be  ex- 
pected from  one  of  his  impulsive  temperament : 

"Unhappily,  no.  My  attentions  never  went  so 
far." 

Instantly  the  coroner  pounced  on  the  one  weak 
word  which  Mr.  Jeffrey  had  let  fall. 

"Unhappily?"  he  repeated.  "Why  do  you  say, 
unhappily?" 

Mr.  Jeffrey  flushed  and  seemed  to  come  out  of 
some  dream. 

"Did  I  say  unhappily?"  he  inquired.  "Well,  I 
repeat  it;  Miss  Tuttle  would  never  have  given  me 
any  cause  for  jealousy." 

The  coroner  bowed  and  for  the  present  dropped 
her  name  out  of  the  conversation. 

"You  speak  again  of  the  jealousy  aroused  in 
you  by  your  wife's  impetuosities.  Was  this  in- 
creased or  diminished  by  the  tone  of  the  few  lines 
she  left  behind  her?" 

The  response  was  long  in  coming.  It  was  hard 
for  this  man  to  lie.  The  struggle  he  made  at  it 
was  pitiful.  As  I  noted  what  it  cost  him,  I  began 
to  have  new  and  curious  thoughts  concerning  him 
and  the  whole  matter  under  discussion. 

"I  shall  never  overcome  the  remorse  roused  in 


FRANCIS  JEFFREY  131 

me  by  those  few  lines,"  he  finally  rejoined.  "She 
showed  a  consideration  for  me — " 

"What!" 

The  coroner's  exclamation  showed  all  the  sur- 
prise he  felt.  Mr.  Jeffrey  tottered  under  it,  then 
grew  slowly  pale  as  if  only  through  our  amazed 
looks  he  had  come  to  realize  the  charge  of  in- 
consistency to  which  he  had  laid  himself  open. 

"I  mean — "  he  endeavored  to  explain,  "that 
Mrs.  Jeffrey  showed  an  unexpected  tenderness 
toward  me  by  taking  all  the  blame  of  our  misun- 
derstanding upon  herself.  It  was  generous  of  her 
and  will  do  much  toward  making  my  memory  of 
her  a  gentle  one." 

He  was  forgetting  himself  again.  Indeed,  his 
manner  and  attempted  explanations  were  full  of 
contradictions.  To  emphasize  this  fact  Coroner  Z. 
exclaimed : 

"I  should  think  so!  She  paid  a  heavy  penalty 
for  her  professed  lack  of  love.  You  believe  that 
her  mind  was  unseated?" 

"Does  not  her  action  show  it?" 

"Unseated  by  the  mishap  occurring  at  her  mar- 
riage?" 

"Yes." 

"You  really  think  that?" 

"Yes." 

"By  anything  that  passed  between  you?" 


132  THE   FILIGREE   BALL 

"Yes." 

"May  I  ask  you  to  tell  us  what  passed  between 
you  on  this  point?" 

"Yes." 

He  had  uttered  the  monosyllable  so  often  it 
seemed  to  come  unconsciously  from  his  lips.  But  he 
recognized  almost  as  soon  as  we  did  that  it  was 
not  a  natural  reply  to  the  last  question,  and,  mak- 
ing a  gesture  of  apology,  he  added,  with  the  same 
monotony  of  tone  which  had  characterized  these  re- 
plies : 

"She  spoke  of  her  strange  guest's  unaccountable 
death  more  than  once,  and  whenever  she  did  so,  it 
was  with  an  unnatural  excitement  and  in  an  un- 
balanced way.  This  was  so  noticeable  to  us  all 
that  the  subject  presently  was  tabooed  amongst 
us;  but  though  she  henceforth  spared  us  all  allu- 
sion to  it,  she  continued  to  talk  about  the  house  it- 
self and  of  the  previous  deaths  which  had  occurred 
there  till  we  were  forced  to  forbid  that  topic 
also.  She  was  never  really  herself  after  crossing 
the  threshold  of  this  desolate  house  to  be  married. 
The  shadow  which  lurks  within  its  walls  fell  at  that 
instant  upon  her  life.  May  God  have  mercy — " 

The  prayer  remained  unfinished.  His  head  which 
had  fallen  on  his  breast  sank  lower. 

He  presented  the  aspect  of  one  who  is  quite  done 
with  life,  even  its  sorrows. 


<  FRANCIS  JEFFREY  133 

But  men  in  the  position  of  Coroner  Z.  can  not 
afford  to  be  compassionate.  Everything  the  be- 
reaved man  said  deepened  the  impression  that  he 
was  acting  a  part.  To  make  sure  that  this  was 
really  so,  the  coroner,  with  just  the  slightest  touch 
of  sarcasm,  quietly  observed: 

"And  to  ease  your  wife's  mind — the  wife  you 
were  so  deeply  angered  with — you  visited  this 
house,  and,  at  an  hour  which  you  should  have  spent 
in  reconciliation  with  her,  went  through  its  ancient 
rooms  in  the  hope — of  what?" 

Mr.  Jeffrey  could  not  answer.  The  words  which 
came  from  his  lips  were  mere  ejaculations. 

"I  was  restless — mad — I  found  this  adventure 
diverting.  I  had  no  real  purpose  in  mind." 

"Not  when  you  looked  at  the  old  picture?" 

"The  old  picture?    What  old  picture?" 

"The  old  picture  in  the  southwest  chamber.  You. 
took  a  look  at  that,  didn't  you?  Got  up  on  a  chair 
on  purpose  to  do  so?" 

Mr.  Jeffrey  winced.    But  he  made  a  direct  reply. 

"Yes,  I  gave  a  look  at  that  old  picture ;  got  up, 
as  you  say,  on  a  chair  to  do  so.  Wasn't  that  the 
freak  of  an  idle  man,  wandering,  he  hardly  knows 
why,  from  room  to  room  in  an  old  and  deserted 
house?" 

His  tormentor  did  not  answer.  Probably  his 
mind  was  on  his  next  line  of  inquiry.  But  Mr. 


134  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

Jeffrey  did  not  take  his  silence  with  the  calmness 
he  had  shown  prior  to  the  last  attack.  As  no  word 
came  from  his  unwelcome  guest,  he  paused  in  his 
rapid  pacing  and,  casting  aside  with  one  impulsive 
gesture  his  hitherto  imperfectly  held  restraint,  he 
cried  out  sharply: 

"Why  do  you  ask  me  these  questions  in  tones  of 
such  suspicion?  Is  it  not  plain  enough  that  my 
wife  took  her  own  life  under  a  misapprehension  of 
my  state  of  mind  toward  her,  that  you  should  feel 
it  necessary  to  rake  up  these  personal  matters, 
which,  however  interesting  to  the  world  at  large, 
are  of  a  painful  nature  to  me?" 

"Mr.  Jeffrey,"  retorted  the  other,  with  a  sudden 
grave  assumption  of  dignity  not  without  its  effect 
in  a  case  of  such  serious  import,  "we  do  nothing 
without  purpose.  We  ask  these  questions  and  show 
this  interest  because  the  charge  of  suicide  which 
has  hitherto  been  made  against  your  wife  is  not 
entirely  sustained  by  the  facts.  At  least  she  was 
not  alone  when  she  took  her  life.  Some  one  was  in 
the  house  with  her." 

It  was  startling  to  observe  the  effect  of  this  dec- 
laration upon  him. 

"Impossible !"  he  cried  out  in  a  protest  as  forci- 
ble as  it  was  agonized.  "You  are  playing  with  my 
misery.  She  could  have  had  no  one  there;  she 
would  not.  There  is  not  a  man  living  before  whom 


FRANCIS  JEFFREY  135 

she  would  have  fired  that  deadly  shot ;  unless  it  was 
myself, — unless  it  was  my  own  wretched,  miserable 
self." 

The  remorseful  whisper  in  which  those  final 
words  were  uttered  carried  them  to  my  heart,  which 
for  some  strange  and  unaccountable  reason  had  been 
gradually  turning  toward  this  man.  But  my  less 
easily  affected  companion,  seeing  his  opportunity 
and  possibly  considering  that  it  was  this  gentle- 
man's right  to  know  in  what  a  doubtful  light  he 
stood  before  the  law,  remarked  with  as  light  a 
touch  of  irony  as  was  possible: 

"You  should  know  better  than  we  in  whose  pres- 
ence she  would  choose  to  die — if  she  did  so  choose. 
Also  who  would  be  likely  to  tie  the  pistol  to  her 
wrist  and  blow  out  the  candle  when  the  dreadful 
deed  was  over." 

The  laugh  which  seemed  to  be  the  only  means  of 
violent  expression  remaining  to  this  miserable  man 
was  kept  down  by  some  amazing  thought  which 
seemed  to  paralyze  him.  Without  making  any  at- 
tempt to  refute  a  suggestion  that  fell  just  short  of 
a  personal  accusation,  he  sank  down  in  the  first 
chair  he  came  to  and  became,  as  it  were,  lost  in 
the  vision  of  that  ghastly  ribbon-tying  and  the 
solitary  blowing  out  of  the  candle  upon  this  scene 
of  mournful  death.  Then  with  a  struggling  sense 
of  having  heard  something  which  called  for  an- 


136  THE   FILIGREE    BALL 

swer,  he  rose  blindly  to  his  feet  and  managed  to  let 
fall  these  words : 

"You  are  mistaken — no  one  was  there,  or  if  any 
one  was — it  was  not  I.  There  is  a  man  in  this  city 
who  can  prove  it." 

###### 

But  when  Mr.  Jeffrey  was  asked  to  give  the 
name  of  this  man,  he  showed  confusion  and  pres- 
ently was  obliged  to  admit  that  he  could  neither  re- 
call his  name  nor  remember  anything  about  him, 
but  that  he  was  some  one  whom  he  knew  well,  and 
who  knew  him  well.  He  affirmed  that  the  two  had 
met  and  spoken  near  Soldiers'  Home  shortly  after 
the  sun  went  down,  and  that  the  man  would  be  sure 
to  remember  this  meeting  if  we  could  only  find 
him. 

As  Soldiers'  Home  was  several  miles  from  the 
Moore  house  and  quite  out  of  the  way  of  all  his 
accustomed  haunts,  Coroner  Z.  asked  him  how  he 
came  to  be  there.  He  replied  that  he  had  just 
come  from  Rock  Creek  Cemetery.  That  he  had 
been  in  a  wretched  state  of  mind  all  day,  and  pos- 
sibly being  influenced  by  what  he  had  heard  of  the 
yearly  vigils  Mr.  Moore  was  in  the  habit  of  keep- 
ing there,  had  taken  a  notion  to  stroll  among  the 
graves,  in  search  of  the  rest  and  peace  of  mind  he 
had  failed  to  find  in  his  aimless  walks  about  the 
city.  At  least,  that  was  the  way  he  chose  to  ac- 


FRANCIS  JEFFREY  137 

count  for  the  meeting  he  mentioned.  Falling  in- 
to reverie  again,  he  seemed  to  be  trying  to  recall 
the  name  which  at  this  moment  was  of  such  im- 
portance to  him.  But  it  was  without  avail,  as  he 
presently  acknowledged. 

"I  can  not  remember  who  it  was.  My  brain  is 
whirling,  and  I  can  recollect  nothing  but  that  this 
man  and  myself  left  the  cemetery  together  on  the 
night  mentioned,  just  as  the  gate  was  being 
closed.  As  it  closes  at  sundown,  the  hour  can 
be  fixed  to  a  minute.  It  was  somewhere  near  seven, 
I  believe ;  near  enough,  I  am  sure,  for  it  to  have  been 
impossible  for  me  to  be  at  the  Moore  house  at  the 
time  my  unhappy  wife  is  supposed  to  have  taken 
her  life.  There  is  no  doubt  about  your  believing 
this?"  he  demanded  with  sudden  haughtiness,  as, 
rising  to  his  feet,  he  confronted  us  in  all  the  pride 
of  his  exceptionally  handsome  person. 

"We  wish  to  believe  it,"  assented  the  coroner, 
rising  in  his  turn.  "That  our  belief  may  become 
certainty,  will  you  let  us  know,  the  instant  you  re- 
call the  name  of  the  man  you  talked  with  at  the 
cemetery  gate?  His  testimony,  far  more  than  any 
word  of  yours,  will  settle  this  question  which  other- 
wise may  prove  a  vexed  one." 

Mr.  Jeffrey's  hand  went  up  to  his  head.  Was  he 
acting  a  part  or  did" he  really  forget  just  what  it 
was  for  his  own  best  welfare  to  remember?  If  he 


138  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

had  forgotten,  it  argued  that  he  was  in  a  state  of 
greater  disturbance  on  that  night  than  would  nat- 
urally be  occasioned  by  a  mere  lover's  quarrel  with 
his  wife. 

Did  the  same  thought  strike  my  companion?  I 
can  not  say ;  I  can  only  give  you  his  next  words. 

"You  have  said  that  your  wife  would  not  be  like- 
ly to  end  her  life  in  presence  of  any  one  but  your- 
self. Yet  you  must  see  that  some  one  was  with  her. 
How  do  you  propose  to  reconcile  your  assertions 
with  a  fact  so  undeniable?" 

"I  can  not  reconcile  them.  It  would  madden  me 
to  try.  If  I  thought  any  one  was  with  her  at  that 
moment — " 

"Well?" 

Mr.  Jeffrey's  eyes  fell;  and  a  startling  change 
passed  over  him.  But  before  either  of  us  could 
make  out  just  what  this  change  betokened  he  re- 
covered his  aspect  of  fixed  melancholy  and  quietly 
remarked : 

"It  is  dreadful  to  think  of  her  standing  there 
alone,  aiming  a  pistol  at  her  young,  passionate 
heart;  but  it  is  worse  to  picture  her  doing  this 
under  the  gaze  of  unsympathizing  eyes.  I  can 
not  and  will  not  so  picture  her.  You  have  been 
misled  by  appearances  or  what  in  police  parlance 
is  called  a  clue." 

Evidently  he  did  not  mean  to  admit  the  possibil- 


FRANCIS  JEFFREY  139 

ity  of  the  pistol  having  been  fired  by  any  other 
hand  than  her  own.  This  the  coroner  noted. 
Bowing  with  the  respect  he  showed  every  man  be- 
fore a  jury  had  decided  upon  his  guilt,  he  turned 
toward  the  door  out  of  which  I  had  already  hur- 
ried. 

"We  hope  to  hear  from  you  in  the  morning," 
he  called  back  significantly,  as  he  stepped  down 
the  stairs. 

Mr.  Jeffrey  did  not  answer;  he  was  having  his 
first  struggle  with  the  new  and  terrible  prospect 
awaiting  him  at  the  approaching  inquest. 


BOOK  II 
THE  LAW  AND  ITS  VICTIM 


XI 

DETAILS 

The  days  of  my  obscurity  were  over.  Hence- 
forth, I  was  regarded  as  a  decided  factor  in  this 
case — a  case  which  from  this  time  on,  assumed  an- 
other aspect  both  at  headquarters  and  in  the  minds 
of  people  at  large.  The  reporters,  whom  we  had 
hitherto  managed  to  hold  in  check,  now  overflowed 
both  the  coroner's  office  and  police  headquarters, 
and  articles  appeared  in  all  the  daily  papers  with 
just  enough  suggestion  in  them  to  fire  the  public 
mind  and  make  me,  for  one,  anticipate  an  imme- 
diate word  from  Mr.  Jeffrey  calculated  to  estab- 
lish the  alibi  he  had  failed  to  make  out  on  the  day 
we  talked  with  him.  But  no  such  word  came.  His 
memory  still  played  him  false,  and  no  alternative 
was  left  but  to  pursue  the  official  inquiry  in  the 
line  suggested  by  the  interview  just  recounted. 

No  proceeding  in  which  I  had  ever  been  en- 
gaged interested  me  as  did  this  inquest.  In  the  first 
place,  the  spectators  were  of  a  very  different  char- 
acter from  the  ordinary.  As  I  wormed  myself 
143 


144  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

along  to  the  seat  accorded  to  such  witnesses  as  my- 
self, I  brushed  by  men  of  the  very  highest  station 
and  a  few  of  the  lowest;  and  bent  my  head  more 
than  once  in  response  to  the  inquiring  gaze  of  some 
fashionable  lady  who  never  before,  I  warrant,  had 
found  herself  in  such  a  scene.  By  the  time  I 
reached  my  place  all  the  others  were  seated  and  the 
coroner  rapped  for  order. 

I  was  first  to  take  the  stand.  What  I  said  has 
already  been  fully  amplified  in  the  foregoing 
pages.  Of  course,  my  evidence  was  confined  to 
facts,  but  some  of  these  facts  were  new  to  most  of 
the  persons  there.  It  was  evident  that  a  consid- 
erable effect  was  produced  by  them,  not  only  on 
the  spectators,  but  upon  the  witnesses  themselves. 
For  instance,  it  was  the  first  time  that  the  marks  on 
the  mantel-shelf  had  been  heard  of  outside  the 
major's  office,  or  the  story  so  told  as  to  make  it 
evident  that  Mrs.  Jeffrey  could  not  have  been  alone 
in  the  house  at  the  time  of  her  death. 

A  photograph  had  been  taken  of  those  marks, 
and  my  identification  of  this  photograph  closed  my 
testimony. 

As  I  returned  to  my  seat  I  stole  a  look  toward 
a  certain  corner  where,  with  face  bent  down  upon 
his  hand,  Francis  Jeffrey  sat  between  Uncle  David 
and  the  heavily-veiled  figure  of  Miss  Tuttle.  Had 


DETAILS  145 

there  dawned  upon  him  as  my  testimony  was  given 
any  suspicion  of  the  trick  by  which  he  had  been 
proved  responsible  for  those  marks?  It  was  impos- 
sible to  tell.  From  the  way  Miss  Tuttle's  head  was 
turned  toward  him,  one  might  judge  him  to  be 
laboring  under  an  emotion  of  no  ordinary  char- 
acter, though  he  sat  like  a  statue  and  hardly 
seemed  to  realize  how  many  eyes  were  at  that  mo- 
ment riveted  upon  his  face. 

I  was  followed  by  other  detectives  who  had  been 
present  at  the  time  and  who  corroborated  my 
statement  as  to  the  appearance  of  this  unhappy 
woman  and  the  way  the  pistol  had  been  tied  to  her 
arm.  Then  the  doctor  who  had  acted  under  the 
coroner  was  called.  After  a  long  and  no  doubt 
learned  description  of  the  bullet  wound  which  had 
ended  the  life  of  this  unhappy  lady, — a  wound 
which  he  insisted,  with  a  marked  display  of  learn- 
ing, must  have  made  that  end  instantaneous  or  at 
least  too  immediate  for  her  to  move  foot  or  hand 
after  it, — he  was  asked  if  the  body  showed  any 
other  mark  of  violence. 

To  this  he  replied: 

"There  was  a  minute  wound  at  the  base  of  one 
of  her  fingers,  the  one  which  is  popularly  called 
the  wedding  finger." 

This  statement  made  all  the  women  present  stare 


146  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

with  renewed  interest;  nor  was  it  altogether  with- 
out point  for  the  men,  especially  when  the  doctor 
went  on  to  say : 

"The  hands  were  entirely  without  rings.  As 
Mrs.  Jeffrey  had  been  married  with  a  ring,  I  no- 
ticed their  absence." 

"Was  this  wound  which  you  characterize  as 
minute  a  recent  one?" 

"It  had  bled  a  little.  It  was  an  abrasion  such 
as  would  be  made  if  the  ring  she  usually  wore  there 
had  been  drawn  off  with  a  jerk.  That  was  the  im- 
pression I  received  from  its  appearance.  I  do  not 
state  that  it  was  so  made." 

A  little  thrill  which  went  over  the  audience 
at  the  picture  this  evoked  communicated  itself 
to  Miss  Tuttle,  who  trembled  violently.  It  even 
produced  a  slight  display  of  emotion  in  Mr.  Jef- 
frey, whose  hand  shook  where  he  pressed  it  against 
his  forehead.  But  neither  uttered  a  sound,  nor 
looked  up  when  the  next  witness  was  summoned. 

This  witness  proved  to  be  Loretta,  who,  on  hear- 
ing her  name  called,  evinced  great  reluctance  to 
come  forward.  But  after  two  or  three  words  ut- 
tered in  her  ear  by  the  friendly  Jinny,  who  had 
been  given  a  seat  next  her,  she  stepped  into  the 
place  assigned  her  with  a  suddenly  assumed  air  of 
great  boldness,  which  sat  upon  her  with  scant 


DETAILS  147 

grace.  She  had  need  of  all  the  boldness  at  her 
command,  for  the  eyes  of  all  in  the  room  were  fixed 
on  her,  with  the  exception  of  the  two  persons 
most  interested  in  her  testimony.  Scrutiny  of 
any  kind  did  not  appear  to  be  acceptable  to  her,  if 
one  could  read  the  trepidation  visible  in  the  short, 
quick  upheavals  of  the  broad  collar  which  covered 
her  uneasy  breast.  Was  this  shrinking  on  her 
part  due  to  natural  timidity,  or  had  she  failings  to 
avow  which,  while  not  vitiating  her  testimony, 
would  certainly  cause  her  shame  in  the  presence  of 
so  many  men  and  women  ?  I  was  not  able  to  decide 
this  question  immediately ;  for  after  the  coroner 
had  elicited  her  name  and  the  position  she  held  in 
Mr.  Jeffrey's  household  he  asked  whether  her  du- 
ties took  her  into  Mrs.  Jeffrey's  room;  upon  her 
replying  that  they  did,  he  further  inquired  if  she 
knew  Mrs.  Jeffrey's  rings,  and  could  say  whether 
they  were  all  to  be  found  on  that  lady's  toilet- 
table  after  the  police  came  in  with  news  of  her 
death.  The  answer  was  decisive.  They  were  all 
there;  her  rings  and  all  the  other  ornaments  she 
was  in  the  daily  habit  of  wearing,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  her  watch.  That  was  not  there. 

"Did  you  take  up  those  rings?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Did  you  see  any  one  else  take  them  up?" 


148  THE   FILIGREE   BALL 

"No,  sir;  not  till  the  officer  did  so." 

"Very  well,  Loretta,  sit  down  again  till  we  hear 
what  Durbin  has  to  say  about  these  rings." 

And  then  the  man  I  hated  came  forward,  and 
though  I  shrank  from  acknowledging  it  even  to 
myself,  I  could  but  observe  how  strong  and 
quiet  and  self-possessed  he  seemed  and  how  decisive 
was  his  testimony. 

But  it  was  equally  brief.  He  had  taken  up  the 
rings  and  he  had  looked  at  them;  and  on  one,  the 
wedding-ring,  he  had  detected  a  slight  stain  of 
blood.  He  had  called  Mr.  Jeffrey's  attention  to  it, 
but  that  gentleman  had  made  no  comment. 

This  remark  had  the  effect  of  concentrating 
general  attention  upon  Mr.  Jeffrey.  But  he 
seemed  quite  oblivious  of  it;  his  attitude  remained 
unchanged,  and  only  from  the  quick  stretching  out 
and  withdrawal  of  Miss  Tuttle's  hand  could  it  be 
seen  that  anything  had  been  said  calculated  to 
touch  or  arouse  this  man.  The  coroner  cast  an  un- 
easy glance  in  his  direction ;  then  he  motioned  Dur- 
bin aside  and  recalled  Loretta. 

And  now  I  began  to  be  sorry  for  the  girl.  It  is 
hard  to  have  one's  weaknesses  exposed,  especially 
if  one  is  more  foolish  than  wicked.  But  there  was 
no  way  of  letting  this  girl  off  without  sacrificing 
certain  necessary  points,  and  the  coroner  went  re- 
lentlessly to  work. 


DETAILS  149 

"How  long  have  you  been  in  this  house?" 

"Three  weeks.  Ever  since  Mrs.  Jeffrey's  wed- 
ding day,  sir." 

"Were  you  there  when  she  first  came  as  a  bride 
from  the  Moore  house?" 

"I  was,  sir." 

"And  saw  her  then  for  the  first  time?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"How  did  she  look  and  act  that  first  day?" 

"I  thought  her  the  gayest  bride  I  had  ever  seen, 
then  I  thought  her  the  saddest,  and  then  I  did  not 
know  what  to  think.  She  was  so  merry  one  min- 
ute and  so  frightened  the  next,  so  full  of  talk 
when  she  came  running  up  the  steps  and  so  struck 
with  silence  the  minute  she  got  into  the  parlor,  that 
I  set  her  down  as  a  queer  one  till  some  one  whis- 
pered in  my  ear  that  she  was  suffering  from  a 
dreadful  shock ;  that  ill-luck  had  attended  her  mar- 
riage and  much  more  about  what  had  happened 
from  time  to  time  at  the  Moore  house." 

"And  you  believed  what  was  told  you?" 

"Believed?" 

"Believed  it  well  enough  to  keep  a  watch  on  your 
young  mistress  to  see  if  she  were  happy  or  not?" 

"Oh,  sir!" 

"It  was  but  natural,"  the  coroner  suavely  ob- 
served. "Every  one  felt  interested  in  this  mar- 
riage. You  watched  her  of  course.  Now  what 


150  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

was  the  result?  Did  you  consider  her  well  and 
happy  ?" 

The  girl's  voice  sank  and  she  cast  a  glance  at 
her  master  which  he  did  not  lift  his  head  to  meet. 

"I  did  not  think  her  happy.  She  laughed  and 
sang  and  was  always  in  and  out  of  the  rooms  like  a 
butterfly,  but  she  did  not  Wear  a  happy  look,  ex- 
cept now  and  then  when  she  was  seated  with  Mr. 
Jeffrey  alone.  Then  I  have  seen  her  flush  in  a 
way  to  make  the  heart  ache ;  it  was  such  a  contrast, 
sir,  to  other  times  when  she  was  by  herself  or — " 

"Or  what?" 

"Or  just  with  her  sister,  sir." 

The  defiance  with  which  this  was  said  added 
point  to  what  otherwise  might  have  been  an  unim- 
portant admission.  Those  who  had  already  scru- 
tinized Miss  Tuttle  with  the  curiosity  of  an  ill- 
defined  suspicion  now  scrutinized  her  with  a  more 
palpable  one,  and  those  who  had  hitherto  seen 
nothing  in  this  heavily-veiled  woman  but  the  be- 
reaved sister  of  an  irresponsible  suicide  allowed 
their  looks  to  dwell  piercingly  on  that  concealing 
veil,  as  if  they  would  be  glad  to  penetrate  its  folds 
and  read  in  those  beautiful  features  the  meaning  of 
an  allusion  uttered  with  such  a  sting  in  the  tone. 

"You  refer  to  Miss  Tuttle?"  observed  the  cor- 
oner. 

"Mrs.  Jeffrey's   sister?     Yes,  sir."     The  men- 


DETAILS  151 

ace  was  gone  from  the  voice  now,  but  no  one  could 
forget  that  it  had  been  there. 

"Miss  Tuttle  lived  in  the  house  with  her  sister, 
did  she  not?" 

"Yes,  sir;  till  that  sister  died  and  was  buried; 
then  she  went  away." 

ITie  coroner  did  not  pursue  this  topic,  prefer- 
ring to  return  to  the  former  one. 

"So  you  say  that  Mrs.  Jeffrey  showed  uneasi- 
ness ever  since  her  wedding  day.  Can  you  give  me 
any  instance  of  this ;  mention,  I  mean,  any  conver- 
sations overheard  by  you  which  would  show  us 
just  what  you  mean?" 

"I  don't  like  to  repeat  things  I  hear.  But  if 
you  say  that  I  must,  I  can  remember  once  passing 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jeffrey  in  the  hall,  just  as  he  was 
saying:  'You  take  it  too  much  to  heart!  I  ex- 
pected a  happy  honeymoon.  Somehow,  we  have 
failed — '  That  was  all  I  heard,  sir.  But  what 
made  me  remember  his  words  was  that  she  was 
dressed  for  some  afternoon  reception  and  looked 
so  charming  and  so — and  so,  as  if  she  ought  to  be 
happier." 

"Just  so.  Now,  when  was  this?  How  long  be- 
fore her  death?" 

"Oh,  a  week  or  so.  It  was  very  soon  after  the 
wedding  day." 

"And  did  matters  seem  to  improve  after  that? 


152  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

Did  she  appear  any  better  satisfied  or  more  com- 
posed?" 

"I  think  she  endeavored  to.  But  there  was 
something  on  her  mind,  something  which  she  tried 
to  laugh  off ;  something  that  annoyed  Mr.  Jeffrey 
and  worried  Miss  Tuttle;  something  which  caused 
a  cloud  in  the  house,  for  all  the  dances  and  dinners 
and  goings  and  comings.  I  am  sorry  to  speak  of 
it,  but  it  was  so." 

"Something  that  showed  an  unsettled  mind?" 

"Almost.  The  glitter  in  her  eye  was  not  nat- 
ural; neither  was  the  way  she  looked  at  her  sister 
and  sometimes  at  her  husband." 

"Did  she  talk  much  about  the  catastrophe  which 
attended  her  wedding?  Did  her  mind  seem  to  run 
on  that?" 

"Incessantly  at  first;  but  afterward  not  so 
much.  I  think  Mr.  Jeffrey  frowned  on  that  sub- 
ject." 

"Did  he  ever  frown  on  her?" 

"No,  sir — not — not  when  they  were  alone  or  with 
no  one  by  but  me.  He  seemed  to  love  her  then 
very  much." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that,  Loretta;  that  he 
lost  patience  with  her  when  other  people  were  pres- 
ent— Miss  Tuttle,  for  instance?" 

"Yes,  sir.  He  used  to  change  very  much  when 
— when — when  Miss  Tuttle  came  into  the  room." 


DETAILS  153 

"Change  toward  his  wife?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"How?" 

"He  grew  more  distant,  much  more  distant ;  got 
up  quite  fretfully  from  his  seat,  if  he  were  sitting 
beside  her,  and  took  up  some  book  or  paper." 

"And  Miss  Tuttle?" 

"She  never  seemed  to  notice  but — " 

"But—?" 

"She  did  not  come  in  very  often  after  this  had 
happened  once  or  twice ;  I  mean  into  the  room  up- 
stairs where  they  used  to  sit." 

"Loretta,  I  regret  to  put  this  question,  but  after 
your  replies  I  owe  it  to  the  jury,  if  not  to  the  par- 
ties themselves,  to  make  Miss  Tuttle's  position  in 
this  household  thoroughly  understood.  Do  you 
think  she  was  a  welcome  visitor  in  this  house?" 

The  girl  pursed  up  her  lips,  glanced  at  the  lady 
and  gentleman  whose  feelings  she  was  supposed  to 
pass  comment  on,  and  seemed  to  lose  heart.  Then, 
as  they  failed  to  respond  to  her  look  of  appeal,  she 
strove  to  get  the  better  of  her  sense  of  shame  and, 
with  a  somewhat  injured  air,  replied: 

"I  can  only  repeat  what  I  once  heard  said  about 
this  by  Mr.  Jeffrey  himself.  Miss  Tuttle  had  just 
left  the  dining-room  and  Mrs.  Jeffrey  was  stand- 
ing in  one  of  her  black  moods,  with  her  hand  on  the 
top  of  her  chair,  ready  to  go  but  forgetting  to  do 


154  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

so.  I  was  there,  but  neither  of  them  noticed  me; 
he  was  staring  at  her,  and  she  was  looking  down. 
Neither  seemed  at  ease.  Suddenly  he  spoke 
and  asked,  'Why  must  Cora  remain  with  us?'  She 
started  and  her  look  grew  strange  and  frightened. 
'Because  I  want  her  to,'  she  cried.  'I  can  not  live 
without  Cora.'  " 

These  words,  so  different  from  what  we  were  ex- 
pecting, caused  a  sensation  in  the  room  and  con- 
sequently a  stir.  As  the  noise  of  shifting  feet  and 
moving  heads  began  to  be  heard  in  all  directions, 
Miss  Tuttle's  head  drooped  a  little,  but  Francis 
Jeffrey  did  not  betray  any  sign  of  feeling  or 
even  of  attention.  The  coroner,  embarrassed,  per- 
haps, by  this  exhibition  of  silent  misery  so  near 
him,  hesitated  a  little  before  he  put  his  next  ques- 
tion. Loretta,  on  the  contrary,  had  gathered 
courage  with  every  word  she  spoke  and  now  looked 
ready  for  anything. 

"It  was  Mrs.  Jeffrey,  then,  who  clung  most  de- 
terminedly to  her  sister?"  the  coroner  finally  sug- 
gested. 

"I  have  told  you  what  she  said." 

"Yet  these  sisters  spent  but  little  time  together?" 

"Very  little;  as  little  as  two  persons  could  who 
lived  together  in  one  house." 

This  statement,  which  seemed  such  a  contradic- 
tion to  her  former  one,  increased  the  interest ;  and 


DETAILS  155 

much  disappointment  was  covertly  shown  when  the 
coroner  veered  off  from  this  topic  and  brusquely 
inquired : 

"Did  you  ever  know  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jeffrey  to 
have  any  open  rupture?" 

The  answer  was  a  decided  one. 

"Yes.  On  Tuesday  morning  preceding  her 
death  they  had  a  long  and  angry  talk  in  their  own 
room,  after  which  Mrs.  Jeffrey  made  no  further 
effort  to  conceal  her  wretchedness.  Indeed,  one 
may  say  she  began  to  die  from  that  hour." 

Mrs.  Jeffrey's  death  had  occurred  on  Wednes- 
day evening. 

"Let  us  hear  what  you  have  to  say  about  this 
quarrel  and  what  happened  after  it." 

The  girl,  with  a  renewed  flush,  cast  a  depreca- 
tory look  at  the  mass  of  faces  before  her,  and, 
meeting  on  all  sides  but  one  look  of  intense  and 
growing  interest,  drew  up  her  neat  figure  with  a  re- 
lieved air  and  began  a  story  which  I  will  proceed 
to  transcribe  for  you  in  the  fewest  possible  words. 

Tuesday  morning's  breakfast  had  been  a  silent 
one.  There  had  been  a  ball  the  night  before  at 
some  great  place  on  Massachusetts  Avenue ;  but  no 
one  spoke  of  it.  Miss  Tuttle  made  some  remark 
about  a  friend  she  had  met  there,  but  as  no  one 
listened  to  her,  she  soon  stopped  and  in  a  little 
while  left  the  table.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jeffrey  sat  on, 


156  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

but  neither  said  anything.  Finally  Mr.  Jeffrey 
rose  and,  speaking  in  a  voice  hardly  recognizable, 
remarked  that  he  had  something  to  say  to  her,  and 
led  the  way  to  their  room.  Mrs.  Jeffrey  looked 
frightened  as  she  followed  him ;  so  frightened  that 
it  was  evident  that  something  very  serious  had  oc- 
curred or  was  about  to  occur  between  them.  As 
nothing  of  this  kind  had  ever  happened  before, 
Loretta  could  not  help  waiting  about  till  Mr. 
Jeffrey  reappeared;  and  when  he  did  so  and  she 
saw  no  signs  of  relief  in  his  face  or  manner,  she 
watched,  with  the  silly  interest  of  a  girl  who  had 
nothing  else  to  occupy  her  mind,  to  see  if  he  would 
leave  the  house  in  such  a  mood,  and  without  making 
peace  with  his  young  bride.  To  her  surprise,  he 
did  not  go  out  at  the  usual  time,  but  went  to  Miss 
Tuttle's  room,  where  for  a  full  half-hour  he  re- 
mained closeted  with  his  sister-in-law,  talking  in 
excited  and  unnatural  tones.  Then  he  went  back 
for  a  few  minutes  to  where  he  had  left  his  wife,  in 
her  own  boudoir.  But  he  could  not  have  had  much 
to  say  to  her  this  time,  for  he  presently  came  out 
again  and  ran  hastily  downstairs  and  out,  almost 
without  stopping  to  catch  up  his  hat. 

As  it  was  Mary's  business,  and  not  the  witness', 
to  make  Mrs.  Jeffrey's  bed  in  the  morning,  Loretta 
could  think  of  no  excuse  for  approaching  her  mis- 
tress' room  at  this  moment;  but  later,  when  letters 


DETAILS  157 

came,  followed  by  various  messages  and  some  vis- 
itors, she  went  more  than  a  dozen  times  to  Mrs. 
Jeffrey's  door.  She  was  not  admitted,  nor  were 
her  appeals  answered,  except  by  a  sharp  "Go 
away !" 

Nor  was  Miss  Tuttle  received  any  better,  though 
she  tried  more  than  once  to  see  her  sister,  espe- 
cially as  night  came  on  and  the  hour  approached 
for  Mr.  Jeffrey's  return.  Mrs.  Jeffrey  was  simply 
determined  to  remain  alone;  and  when  dinner  time 
arrived,  and  no  Mr.  Jeffrey,  she  could  be  induced 
to  open  her  door  only  wide  enough  to  take  in  the 
cup  of  tea  which  Miss  Tuttle  insisted  upon  sending 
her. 

The  witness  here  confessed  that  she  had  been 
very  much  excited  by  these  unusual  proceedings 
and  by  the  effect  which  they  seemed  to  have  on  the 
lady  just  mentioned;  so  she  was  ready  to  notice 
that  Mrs.  Jeffrey's  hand  shook  like  that  of  an  old 
and  palsied  woman  when  she  reached  out  for  the 
tray. 

Gladly  would  Loretta  have  caught  one  glimpse 
of  her  face,  but  it  was  hidden  by  the  door ;  nor  did 
Mrs.  Jeffrey  answer  a  single  one  of  her  questions. 
She  simply  closed  her  door  and  kept  it  so  till  to- 
ward midnight,  when  Miss  Tuttle,  coming  into  the 
hall,  ordered  the  house  to  be  closed  for  the  night. 
Then  the  long-shut  door  softly  swung  open,  but 


158  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

before  any  one  could  reach  it,  it  was  again  pulled 
to  and  locked. 

The  next  day  brought  no  relief.  Miss  Tuttle, 
who  had  changed  greatly  during  this  unhappy 
day  and  night,  succeeded  no  better  than  before  in 
getting  access  to  her  sister,  nor  could  Loretta  gain 
the  least  word  from  her  mistress  till  toward  the  lat- 
ter part  of  the  afternoon,  when  that  lady,  ringing 
her  bell,  gave  her  first  order. 

"A  substantial  dinner,"  she  cried;  and  when 
Loretta,  greatly  relieved,  brought  up  the  required 
meal  she  was  astonished  to  find  the  door  open  and 
herself  bidden  to  enter.  The  sight  which  met  her 
eyes  staggered  her.  From  one  end  of  the  room  to 
the  other  were  signs  of  great  nervous  unrest  and  of 
terrible  suffering.  The  chairs  were  pushed  into 
corners  as  if  the  wretched  bride  had  tramped  the 
floor  in  an  agony  of  excitement.  Curtains  were 
torn  and  the  piano-cover  was  hanging  half  on  and 
half  off  the  open  upright,  as  if  she  had  clutched  at 
it  to  keep  herself  from  falling.  On  the  floor  be- 
neath lay  several  pieces  of  broken  china, — vases  of 
whose  value  Mrs.  Jeffrey  had  often  spoken,  but 
which,  jerked  off  with  the  cover,  had  been  left  where 
they  fell;  while  immediately  in  front  of  the  fire- 
place lay  one  of  the  rugs  tossed  into  a  heap,  as  if 
she  had  rolled  in  it  on  the  floor  or  used  it  to  smother 
her  cries  of  pain  or  anger. 


DETAILS  159 

So  much  for  the  state  in  which  the  witness  found 
the  boudoir.  The  adjoining  bed-room  was  not  in 
much  better  case,  though  it  was  evident  that  the 
bed  itself  had  not  been  lain  in  since  it  was  made 
up  the  day  before  at  breakfast  time.  By  this 
token  Mrs.  Jeffrey  had  not  slept  the  night  before, 
or  if  she  had  laid  her  head  anywhere  it  had  been 
on  the  rug  already  spoken  of. 

These  signs  of  extreme  mental  suffering,  so 
much  more  extreme  than  any  Loretta  had  ever  be- 
fore witnessed,  frightened  her  so  that  the  tray 
shook  in  her  hand  as  she  set  it  down  on  the  table 
among  the  countless  objects  Mrs.  Jeffrey  al- 
ways had  about  her.  The  noise  seemed  to  startle 
her  mistress,  who  had  walked  to  the  window  after 
opening  the  door,  for  she  wheeled  impetuously 
about  and  Loretta  saw  her  face.  It  was  as  if  a 
blight  had  passed  over  it.  Once  gay  and  animated 
beyond  the  power  of  any  one  to  describe,  it  had 
become  in  twenty-four  hours  a  ghost's  face,  with 
the  glare  of  some  awful  resolve  on  it.  Or  so  it 
would  appear  from  the  way  Loretta  described  it. 
But  such  girls  do  not  always  see  correctly,  and 
perhaps  all  that  can  be  safely  stated  is  that  Mrs. 
Jeffrey  was  unnaturally  pale  and  had  lost  her  but- 
terfly-like way  of  incessant  movement. 

Loretta,  who  was  evidently  accustomed  to  seeing 
her  mistress  arrayed  in  brilliant  colors  and  much 


160  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

begemmed,  laid  great  stress  on  the  fact  that, 
though  it  was  on  the  verge  of  evening  and  she  was 
evidently  going  out,  she  was  dressed  in  black  cloth 
and  without  even  a  diamond  or  a  flower  to  relieve 
its  severe  simplicity.  Her  hair,  too,  which  was  al- 
ways her  pride,  was  piled  in  a  careless  mass  upon 
her  head  as  if  she  had  tried  to  arrange  it  herself 
and  had  forgotten  what  she  was  doing  while  her 
fingers  were  but  half  through  their  work.  There 
was  a  cloak  lying  on  a  chair  near  which  she  was 
standing,  and  she  held  a  hat  in  her  hand;  but 
Loretta  saw  no  gloves.  As  the  maid's  glance  and 
that  of  her  mistress  crossed,  Mrs.  Jeffrey  spoke, 
and  the  effort  she  made  in  doing  so  naturally 
frightened  the  girl  still  more.  "I  am  going  out," 
were  her  words.  "I  may  not  be  home  till  late — 
What  are  you  looking  at?" 

Loretta  declared  that  the  words  took  her  by  sur- 
prise and  that  she  did  not  know  what  to  say,  but 
managed  to  cover  up  her  embarrassment  by  inti- 
mating that  if  her  mistress  would  let  her  touch  up 
her  hair  a  bit  she  would  make  her  look  more  nat- 
ural. 

At  this  suggestion,  Mrs.  Jeffrey  cast  a  glance  in 
the  glass  and  impetuously  declared,  "It  doesn't 
matter."  But  she  seemed  to  think  better  of  it  the 
next  minute;  for,  throwing  herself  in  a  chair,  she 
bade  the  girl  to  bring  a  comb,  and  sat  quiet  enough, 


DETAILS  161 

though  evidently  in  a  great  tremor  of  haste  and 
impatience,  while  Loretta  combed  her  hair  and  put 
it  up  in  the  old  way. 

But  the  old  way  was  not  as  becoming  as  usual, 
and  Loretta  was  wondering  if  she  ought  to  call  in 
Miss  Tuttle,  when  Mrs.  Jeffrey  jumped  to  her  feet 
and  went  over  to  the  table  and  began  to  eat  with 
the  feverish  haste  of  one  who  forces  himself  to  take 
food  in  spite  of  hurry  and  distaste. 

This  was  the  moment  for  Loretta  to  leave  the 
room ;  but  she  did  not  know  how  to  do  so.  She 
felt  herself  fixed  to  the  spot  and  stood  watching 
Mrs.  Jeffrey  till  that  lady,  suddenly  becoming  con- 
scious of  the  girl's  presence,  turned,  and  in  the 
midst  of  the  moans  which  broke  unconsciously  from 
her  lips,  said  with  a  pitiable  effort  at  her  old  man- 
ner: 

"Go  away,  Loretta;  I  am  ill;  have  been  ill  for 
two  days.  I  don't  like  people  to  look  at  me  like 
that !"  Then,  as  the  girl  shrank  back,  added  in  a 
breaking  voice:  "When  Mr.  Jeffrey  comes 
home — "  and  said  no  more  for  several  minutes,  dur- 
ing which  she  clutched  her  throat  with  both  hands 
and  struggled  with  herself  till  she  got  her  voice 
back  and  found  herself  able  to  repeat:  "When 
Mr.  Jeffrey  comes, — if  he  does  come, — tell  him 
that  I  was  right  about  the  way  that  novel  ended. 
Remember  that  you  are  to  say  to  him  the  moment 


162  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

you  see  him  that  I  was  right  about  the  novel,  and 
that  he  is  to  look  and  see  if  it  did  not  end  as  I  said 
it  would.  And  Loretta — "  here  she  rose  and 
approached  the  speaker  with  a  sweet,  appealing 
look  which  brought  tears  to  the  impressionable 
girl's  eyes,  "don't  go  gossiping  about  me  down- 
stairs. I  sha'n't  be  sick  long.  I  am  going  to  be 
better  soon,  very  soon.  By  the  time  you  see  me 
here  again  I  shall  be  quite  like  my  old  self.  For- 
get how — how" — and  Loretta  said  she  seemed  to 
have  difficulty  in  finding  the  right  word  here — 
"how  childish  I  have  been." 

Of  course  Loretta  promised,  but  she  is  not  sure 
that  she  would  have  had  the  courage  to  keep  all 
this  to  herself  if  she  had  not  heard  Mrs.  Jeffrey 
stop  in  Miss  Tuttle's  room  on  her  way  out.  That 
relieved  her,  and  enabled  her  to  go  downstairs  to 
her  own  supper  with  more  appetite  than  she  had 
thought  ever  to  have  again.  Alas !  it  was  the  last 
good  meal  she  was  able  to  eat  for  days.  In  three 
hours  afterward  a  man  came  from  the  station- 
house  with  the  news  of  Mrs.  Jeffrey's  suicide  in  the 
horrible  old  house  in  which  she  had  been  married 
only  two  weeks  before. 

As  this  had  been  a  continuous  narrative  and 
concisely  told,  the  coroner  had  not  interrupted  her. 
When  at  this  point  a  little  gasp  escaped  Miss 
Tuttle  and  a  groan  broke  from  Francis  Jeffrey's 


DETAILS  163 

hitherto  sealed  lips,  the  feelings  of  the  whole 
assemblage  seemed  to  find  utterance.  A  young 
wife's  misery  culminating  in  death  on  the  very  spot 
where  she  had  been  so  lately  married !  What  could 
be  more  thrilling,  or  appeal  more  closely  to  the 
general  heart  of  humanity?  But  the  cause  of  that 
misery!  This  was  what  every  one  present  was 
eager  to  have  explained.  This  is  what  we  now  ex- 
pected the  coroner  to  bring  out.  But  instead  of 
continuing  on  the  line  he  had  opened  up,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  ask : 

"Where  were  you  when  this  officer  brought  the 
news  you  mention?" 

"In  the  hall,  sir.     I  opened  the  door  for  him." 
"And  to  whom  did  he  first  mention  his  errand?" 
"To  Miss  Tuttle.     She  had  come  in  just  before 
him  and  was  standing  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs — " 
"What!     Was  Miss  Tuttle  out  that  evening?" 
"Yes ;  she  went  out  very  soon  after  Mrs.  Jeffrey 
left.     When  she  came  in  she  said  that  she  had  been 
around  the  block,  but  she  must  have  gone  around 
it  more  than  once,  for  she  was  absent  two  hours." 
"Did  you  let  her  in?" 
"Yes,  sir." 

"And  she  said  she  had  been  around  the  block?" 
"Yes,  sir." 

"Did  she  say  anything  else?" 
"She  asked  if  Mr.  Jeffrey  had  come  in." 


164  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

"Anything  else?" 

"Then  if  Mrs.  Jeffrey  had  returned." 

"To  both  of  which  questions  you  answered — " 

"A  plain  'No.'  " 

"Now  tell  us  about  the  officer." 

"He  rang  the  bell  almost  immediately  after  she 
did.  Thinking  she  would  want  to  slip  upstairs 
before  I  admitted  any  one,  I  waited  a  minute  for 
her  to  go,  but  she  did  not  do  so,  and  when  the 
officer  stepped  in  she — " 

"Well!" 

"She  shrieked." 

"What!  before  he  spoke?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Just  at  sight  of  him?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Did  he  wear  his  badge  in  plain  view  ?" 

"Yes,  on  his  breast." 

"So  that  you  knew  him  to  be  a  police  officer?" 

"Yes." 

"And  Miss  Tuttle  shrieked  at  seeing  a  police 
officer?" 

"Yes,  and  sprang  forward." 

"Did  she  say  anything?" 

"Not  then." 

"What  did  she  do?" 

"Waited  for  him  to  speak." 

"Which  he  did?" 


DETAILS  165 

"At  once,  and  very  brutally.  He  asked  if  she 
was  Mrs.  Jeffrey's  sister,  and  when  she  nodded  and 
gasped  'Yes,'  he  blurted  out  that  Mrs.  Jeffrey  was 
dead;  that  he  had  just  come  from  the  old  house  in 
Waverley  Avenue,  where  she  had  just  been  found." 

"And  Miss  Tuttle?" 

"Didn't  know  what  to  say;  just  hid  her  face. 
She  was  leaning  against  the  newel-post,  so  it  was 
easy  for  her  to  do  so.  I  remember  that  the  man 
stared  at  her  for  taking  it  so  quietly  and  asking  no 
questions." 

"And  did  she  speak  at  all?" 

"Oh,  yes,  afterwards.  Her  face  was  wrapped  in 
the  folds  of  her  cloak,  but  I  heard  her  whisper,  as 
if  to  herself :  'No !  no !  That  old  hearth  is  not  a 
lodestone.  She  can  not  have  fallen  there.'  And 
then  she  looked  up  quite  wildly  and  cried :  'There 
is  something  more!  Something  which  you  have 
not  told  me.'  'She  shot  herself,  if  that's  what  you 
mean.'  Miss  Tuttle's  arms  went  straight  up  over 
her  head.  It  was  awful  to  see  her.  'Shot  her- 
self?' she  gasped.  'Oh,  Veronica,  Veronica!'  'With 
a  pistol,'  he  went  on — I  suppose  he  was  going  to 
say,  'tied  to  her  wrist,'  but  he  never  got  it 
out,  for  Miss  Tuttle,  at  the  word  'pistol'  clapped 
her  hands  to  her  ears  and  for  a  moment  looked 
quite  distracted,  so  that  he  thought  better  of  wor- 
rying her  any  more  and  only  demanded  to  know 


166  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

if  Mr.  Jeffrey  kept  any  such  weapon.  Miss  Tut- 
tle's  face  grew  very  strange  at  this.  'Mr.  Jeffrey ! 
was  he  there?'  she  asked.  The  man  looked  sur- 
prised. 'They  are  searching  for  Mr.  Jeffrey,'  he 
replied.  'Isn't  he  here?'  'No,'  came  both  from 
her  lips  and  mine.  The  man  acted  very  imper- 
tinently. 'You  haven't  told  me  whether  a  pistol 
was  kept  here  or  not,'  said  he.  Miss  Tuttle  tried 
to  compose  herself,  but  I  saw  that  I  should  have  to 
speak  if  any  one  did,  so  I  told  him  that  Mr.  Jef- 
frey did  have  a  pistol,  which  he  kept  in  one  of  his 
bureau  drawers.  But  when  the  officer  wanted  Miss 
Tuttle  to  go  up  and  see  if  it  was  there,  she  shook 
her  head  and  made  for  the  front  door,  saying  that 
she  must  be  taken  directly  to  her  sister." 

"And  did  no  one  go  up  ?  Was  no  attempt  made 
to  see  if  the  pistol  was  or  was  not  in  the  drawer?" 

"Yes;  the  officer  went  up  with  me.  I  pointed 
out  the  place  where  it  was  kept,  and  he  rummaged 
all  through  it,  but  found  no  pistol.  I  didn't  ex- 
pect him  to — "  Here  the  witness  paused  and  bit 
her  lip,  adding  confusedly:  "Mrs.  Jeffrey  had 
taken  it,  you  see." 

The  jurors,  who  sat  very  much  in  the  shadow, 
had  up  to  this  point  attracted  but  little  attention. 
But  now  they  began  to  make  their  presence  felt, 
perhaps  because  the  break  in  the  witness'  words 
had  been  accompanied  by  a  sly  look  at  Jinny.  Pqs- 


DETAILS  167 

sibly  warned  by  this  that  something  lay  back  of 
this  hitherto  timid  witness'  sudden  volubility,  one 
of  them  now  spoke  up. 

"In  what  room  did  you  say  this  pistol  was  kept?" 

"In  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jeffrey's  bed-room,  sir;  the 
room  opening  out  of  the  sitting-room  where  Mrs. 
Jeffrey  had  kept  herself  shut  up  all  day." 

"Does  this  bed-room  of  which  you  speak  com- 
municate with  the  hall  as  well  as  with  the  sitting- 
room?" 

"No,  sir ;  it  is  the  defect  of  the  house.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Jeffrey  often  spoke  of  it  as  a  great  annoy- 
ance. You  had  to  pass  through  the  little  boudoir 
in  order  to  reach  it." 

The  juryman  sank  back,  evidently  satisfied  with 
her  replies,  but  we  who  marked  the  visible  excite- 
ment with  which  the  witness  had  answered  this 
seemingly  unimportant  question,  wondered  what 
special  interest  surrounded  that  room  and  the  pis- 
tol to  warrant  the  heightened  color  with  which  the 
girl  answered  this  new  interlocutor.  We  were  not 
destined  to  know  at  this  time,  for  the  coroner,  when 
he  spoke  again,  pursued  a  different  subject. 

"How  long  was  this  before  Mr.  Jeffrey  came 
in?" 

"Only  a  few  minutes.  I  was  terribly  frightened 
at  being  left  there  alone  and  was  on  my  way  to 
ask  one  of  the  other  girls  to  come  up  and  stay  with 


168  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

me,  when  I  heard  his  key  in  the  lock  and  came 
back.  He  had  entered  the  house  and  was  stand- 
ing near  the  door  talking  to  an  officer,  who  had 
evidently  come  in  with  him.  It  was  a  different 
officer  from  the  one  who  had  gone  away  with  Miss 
Tuttle.  Mr.  Jeffrey  was  saying,  'What's  that? 
My  wife  hurt !'  'Dead,  sir !'  blurted  out  the  man. 
I  had  expected  to  see  Mr.  Jeffrey  terribly  shocked, 
but  not  in  so  awful  a  way.  It  really  frightened 
me  to  see  him  and  I  turned  to  run,  but  found  that 
I  couldn't  and  that  I  had  to  stand  still  and  look 
whether.  I  wanted  to  or  not.  Yet  he  didn't  say  a 
word  or  ask  a  question." 

"What  did  he  do,  Loretta?" 

"I  can  not  say;  he  was  on  his  knees  and  was 
white — Oh,  how  white !  Yet  he  looked  up  when  the 
man  described  how  and  where  Mrs.  Jeffrey  had 
been  found  and  even  turned  toward  me  when  I  said 
something  about  his  wife  having  left  a  message 
for  him  when  she  went  out.  This  message,  which 
I  almost  hesitated  to  give  after  the  awful  news  of 
her  death,  was  about  the  ending  of  some  story,  as 
you  remember,  and  it  seemed  heartless  to  speak  of 
it  at  a  moment  like  this,  but  as  she  had  told  me  to, 
I  didn't  dare  to  disobey  her.  So,  with  the  man 
listening  to  my  every  word,  and  Mr.  Jeffrey  look- 
ing as  if  he  would  fall  to  the  ground  before  I  could 
finish,  I  repeated  her  words  to  him  and  was  sur- 


DETAILS  169 

prised  enough  when  he  suddenly  started  upright 
and  went  flying  upstairs.  But  I  was  more  sur- 
prised yet  when,  at  the  top  of  the  first  flight,  he 
stopped  and,  looking  over  the  balustrade,  asked  in 
a  very  strange  voice  where  Miss  Tuttle  was.  For 
he  seemed  just  then  to  want  her  more  than  any- 
thing else  in  the  world  and  looked  beaten  and  wild 
when  I  told  him  that  she  was  already  gone  to  Wa- 
verley  Avenue.  But  he  recovered  himself  before  the 
man  could  draw  near  enough  to  see  his  face,  and 
rushed  into  the  sitting-room  above  and  shut  the 
door  behind  him,  leaving  the  officer  and  me  stand- 
ing down  by  the  front  door.  As  I  didn't  know 
what  to  say  to  a  man  like  him,  and  he  didn't  know 
what  to  say  to  me,  the  time  seemed  long,  but  it 
couldn't  have  been  very  many  minutes  before  Mr. 
Jeffrey  came  back  with  a  slip  of  paper  in  his  hand 
and  a  very  much  relieved  look  on  his  face.  'The 
deed  was  premeditated,'  he  cried.  'My  unfortu- 
nate wife  has  misunderstood  my  affection  for  her.' 
And  from  being  a  very  much  broken-down  man,  he 
stood  up  straight  and  tall  and  prepared  himself 
very  quietly  to  go  to  the  Moore  house.  That  is  all 
I  can  tell  about  the  way  the  news  was  received  by 
him." 

Were  these  details  necessary?  Many  appeared 
tto  regard  them  as  futile  and  uncalled  for.  But 
(Coroner  Z.  was  never  known  to  waste  time  on 


170  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

trivialities,  and  if  he  called  for  these  facts,  those 
who  knew  him  best  felt  certain  that  they  were  meant 
as  a  preparation  for  Mr.  Jeffrey's  testimony, 
which  was  now  called  for. 


XII 

THRUST   AND   PAERY 

When  Francis  Jeffrey's  hand  fell  from  his  fore- 
head and  he  turned  to  face  the  assembled  people, 
an  instinctive  compassion  arose  in  every  breast  at 
sight  of  his  face,  which,  if  not  open  in  its  expres- 
sion, was  at  least  surcharged  with  the  deepest  mis- 
ery. In  a  flash  the  scene  took  on  new  meaning. 
Many  remembered  that  less  than  a  month  before 
his  eye  had  been  joyous  and  his  figure  a  conspicu- 
ous one  among  the  favored  sons  of  fortune.  And 
now  he  stood  in  sight  of  a  crowd,  drawn  together 
mainly  by  curiosity,  to  explain  as  best  he  might 
why  this  great  happiness  and  hope  had  come  to  a 
sudden  termination,  and  his  bride  of  a  fortnight 
had  sought  death  rather  than  continue  to  live  under 
the  same  roof  with  him. 

So  much  for  what  I  saw  on  the  faces  about  me. 
What  my  own  face  revealed  I  can  not  say.  I  only 
know  that  I  strove  to  preserve  an  impassive  ex- 
terior. If  I  secretly  held  this  man's  misery  to  be 
a  mask  hiding  untold  passions  and  the  darkness  of 
171 


172  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

an  unimaginable  deed,  it  was  not  for  me  to  dis- 
close in  this  presence  either  my  suspicions  or  my 
fears.  To  me,  as  to  those  about  me,  he  apparently 
was  a  man  who  at  some  sacrifice  to  his  pride,  would 
yet  be  able  to  explain  whatever  seemed  dubious  in 
the  mysterious  case  in  which  he  had  become  in- 
volved. 

His  wife's  uncle,  who  to  all  appearance  shared 
the  general  curiosity  as  to  the  effect  which  this 
woeful  tragedy  had  had  upon  his  niece's  most  in- 
terested survivor,  eyed  with  a  certain  cold  interest, 
eminently  in  keeping  with  his  general  character, 
the  pallid  forehead,  sunken  eyes  and  nervously 
trembling  lip  of  the  once  "handsome  Jeffrey"  till 
that  gentleman,  rousing  from  his  depression,  mani- 
fested a  realization  of  what  was  required  of  him 
and  turned  with  a  bow  toward  the  coroner. 

Miss  Tuttle  settled  into  a  greater  rigidity.  I 
pass  over  the  preliminary  examination  of  this  im- 
portant witness  and  proceed  at  once  to  the  point 
when  the  coroner,  holding  out  the  two  or  three 
lines  of  writing  which  Mr.  Jeffrey  had  declared  to 
have  been  left  him  by  his  wife,  asked : 

"Are  these  words  in  your  wife's  handwriting?" 

Mr.  Jeffrey  replied  hastily,  and,  with  just  a 
glance  at  the  paper  offered  him: 

"They  are." 

The  coroner  pressed  the  slip  upon  him. 


THRUST  AND  PARRY  173 

"Look  at  them  carefully,"  he  urged.  "The 
handwriting  shows  hurry  and  in  places  is  scarcely 
legible.  Are  you  ready  to  swear  that  these  words 
were  written  by  your  wife  and  by  no  other?" 

Mr.  Jeffrey,  with  just  a  slight  contraction  of 
his  brow  expressive  of  annoyance,  did  as  he  was  bid. 
He  scanned,  or  appeared  to  scan,  the  small  scrap 
of  paper  which  he  now  took  into  his  own  hand. 

"It  is  my  wife's  writing,"  he  impatiently  de- 
clared. "Written,  as  all  can  see,  under  great 
agitation  of  mind,  but  hers  without  any  doubt." 

"Will  you  read  aloud  these  words  for  our  bene- 
fit?" asked  the  coroner. 

It  was  a  cruel  request,  causing  an  instinctive 
protest  from  the  spectators.  But  no  protest  dis- 
turbed Coroner  Z.  He  had  his  reasons,  no  doubt, 
for  thus  trying  this  witness,  and  when  Coroner  Z. 
had  reason  for  anything  it  took  more  than  the  dis- 
pleasure of  the  crowd  to  deter  him. 

Mr.  Jeffrey,  who  had  subdued  whatever  indigna- 
tion he  may  have  felt  at  this  unmistakable  proof 
of  the  coroner's  intention  to  have  his  own  way  with 
him  whatever  the  cost  to  his  sensitiveness  or  pride, 
obeyed  the  latter's  command  in  firmer  tones  than 
I  expected. 

The  lines  he  was  thus  called  upon  to  read  may 
bear  repetition : 


174  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

"I  find  that  I  do  not  love  you  as  I  thought.  I 
can  not  live  knowing  this  to  be  so.  Pray  God  you 
may  forgive  me!  VERONICA." 

As  the  last  word  fell  with  a  little  tremble  from 
Mr.  Jeffrey's  lips,  the  coroner  repeated: 

"You  still  think  these  words  were  addressed  to 
you  by  your  wife ;  that  in  short  they  contain  an  ex- 
planation of  her  death?" 

"I  do." 

There  was  sharpness  in  the  tone.  Mr.  Jeffrey 
was  feeling  the  prick.  There  was  agitation  in  it, 
too ;  an  agitation  he  was  trying  hard  to  keep  down. 

"You  have  reason,  then,"  persisted  the  coroner, 
"for  accepting  this  peculiar  explanation  of  your 
wife's  death;  a  death  which,  in  the  judgment 
of  most  people,  was  of  a  nature  to  call  for  the 
strongest  provocation  possible." 

"My  wife  was  not  herself.  My  wife  was  in  an 
overstrained  and  suffering  condition.  For  one  so 
nervously  overwrought  many  allowances  must  be 
made.  She  may  have  been  conscious  of  not  re- 
sponding fully  to  my  affection.  That  this  feeling 
was  strong  enough  to  induce  her  to  take  her  life 
is  a  source  of  unspeakable  grief  to  me,  but  one  for 
which  you  must  find  explanation,  as  I  have  so  often 
said,  in  the  terrors  caused  by  the  dread  event  at 
the  Moore  house,  which  recalled  old  tragedies  and 
emphasized  a  most  unhappy  family  tradition." 


THRUST  AND  PARRY  175 

The  coroner  paused  a  moment  to  let  these  words 
sink  into  the  ears  of  the  jury,  then  plunged  im- 
mediately into  what  might  be  called  the  offensive 
part  of  his  examination. 

"Why,  if  your  wife's  death  caused  you  such  in- 
tense grief,  did  you  appear  so  relieved  at  receiving 
this  by  no  means  consoling  explanation?" 

At  an  implication  so  unmistakably  suggestive  of 
suspicion  Mr.  Jeffrey  showed  fire  for  the  first  time. 

"Whose  word  have  you  for  that?  A  serv- 
ant's, so  newly  come  into  my  house  that  her  very 
features  are  still  strange  to  me.  You  must  ac- 
knowledge that  a  person  of  such  marked  inexperi- 
ence can  hardly  be  thought  to  know  me  or  to  inter- 
pret rightly  the  feelings  of  my  heart  by  any  pass- 
ing look  she  may  have  surprised  upon  my  face." 

This  attitude  of  defiance  so  suddenly  assumed 
had  an  effect  he  little  realized.  Miss  Tuttle  stirred 
for  the  first  time  behind  her  veil,  and  Uncle  David, 
from  looking  bored,  became  suddenly  quite  atten- 
tive. These  two  but  mirrored  the  feelings  of  the 
general  crowd,  and  mine  especially. 

"We  do  not  depend  on  her  judgment  alone,"  the 
coroner  now  remarked.  "The  change  in  you  was 
apparent  to  many  others.  This  we  can  prove  to 
the  jury  if  they  require  it." 

But  no  man  lifting  a  voice  from  that  gravely  at- 
tentive body,  the  coroner  proceeded  to  inquire  if 


176  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

Mr.  Jeffrey  felt  like  volunteering  any  explana- 
tions on  this  head.  Receiving  no  answer  from 
him  either,  he  dropped  the  suggestive  line  of  in- 
quiry and  took  up  the  consideration  of  facts.  The 
first  question  he  now  put  was : 

"Where  did  you  find  the  slip  of  paper  contain- 
ing these  last  words  from  your  wife?" 

"In  a  book  I  picked  out  of  the  book-shelf  in  our 
room  upstairs.  When  Loretta  gave  me  my  wife's 
message  I  knew  that  I  should  find  some  word  from 
her  in  the  novel  we  had  just  been  reading.  As  we 
had  been  interested  in  but  one  book  since  our  mar- 
riage, there  was  no  possibility  of  my  making  anj 
mistake  as  to  which  one  she  referred.'* 

"Will  you  give  us  the  name  of  this  novel?" 

"COMPENSATION." 

"And  you  found  this  book  called  COMPENSATION 
in  your  room  upstairs?" 

"Yes." 

"On  the  book-shelf?" 

"Yes." 

"Where  does  this  book-shelf  stand?" 

Mr.  Jeffrey  looked  up  as  much  as  to  say,  "Why 
so  many  small  questions  about  so  simple  a  matter?" 
but  answered  frankly  enough : 

"At  the  right  of  the  door  leading  into  the  bed- 


THRUST  AND  PARRY  177 

"And  at  right  angles  to  the  door  leading  into 
the  hall?" 

"Yes." 

"Very  good.  Now  may  I  ask  you  to  describe  the 
cover  of  this  book?" 

"The  cover?  I  never  noticed  the  cover.  Why 
do  you — .  Excuse  me,  I  suppose  you  have  your 
reasons  for  asking  even  these  puerile  and  seem- 
ingly unnecessary  questions.  The  cover  is  a  queer 
one  I  believe;  partly  red  and  partly  green;  and 
that  is  all  I  know  about  it." 

"Is  this  the  book?" 

Mr.  Jeffrey  glanced  at  the  volume  the  coroner 
held  up  before  him. 

"I  believe  so ;  it  looks  like  it." 

The  book  had  a  flaming  cover,  quite  unmistak- 
able in  its  character. 

"The  title  shows  it  to  be  the  same,"  remarked 
the  coroner.  "Is  this  the  only  book  with  a  cover  of 
this  kind  in  the  house?" 

"The  only  one,  I  should  say." 

The  coroner  laid  down  the  book. 

"Enough  of  this,  then,  for  the  present;  only 
let  the  jury  remember  that  the  cover  of  this  book 
is  peculiar  and  that  it  was  kept  on  a  shelf  at  the 
right  of  the  opening  leading  into  the  adjoining 
bed-room.  And  now,  Mr.  Jeffrey,  we  must  ask 


178  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

you  to  look  at  these  rings ;  or,  rather,  at  this  one. 
You  have  seen  it  before;  it  is  the  one  you  placed 
on  Mrs.  Jeffrey's  hand  when  you  were  married  to 
her  a  little  over  a  fortnight  ago.  You  recognize 
it?" 

"I  do." 

"Do  you  also  recognize  this  small  mark  of  blood 
on  it  as  having  been  here  when  it  was  shown  to  you 
by  the  detective  on  your  return  from  seeing  her 
dead  body  at  the  Moore  house  ?" 

"I  do;  yes." 

"How  do  you  account  for  that  spot  and  the 
slight  injury  made  to  her  finger?  Should  you  not 
say  that  the  ring  had  been  dragged  from  her 
hand?" 

"I  should." 

"By  whom  was  it  dragged?     By  you?" 

"No,  sir." 

"By  herself,  then?" 

"It  would  seem  so." 

"Much  passion  must  have  been  in  that  act.  Do 
you  think  that  any  ordinary  quarrel  between  hus- 
band and  wife  would  account  for  the  display  of 
such  fury  ?  Are  we  not  right  in  supposing  a  deep- 
er cause  for  the  disturbance  between  you  than  the 
slight  one  you  offer  in  way  of  explanation?" 

An  inaudible  answer;  then  a  sudden  straighten- 


THRUST  AND  PARRY  179 

ing  of  Francis  Jeffrey's  fine  figure.  And  that  was 
all. 

"Mr.  Jeffrey,  in  the  talk  you  had  with  your  wife 
on  Tuesday  morning  was  Miss  Tuttle's  name  in- 
troduced?" 

"It  was  mentioned ;  yes,  sir." 

"With  recrimination  or  any  display  of  passion 
on  the  part  of  your  wife?" 

"You  would  not  believe  me  if  I  said  no,"  was 
the  unexpected  rejoinder. 

The  coroner,  taken  aback  by  this  direct  attack 
from  one  who  had  hitherto  borne  all  his  innuendoes 
with  apparent  patience,  lost  countenance  for  a  mo- 
ment, but,  remembering  that  in  his  official  capacity 
he  was  more  than  a  match  for  the  elegant  gentle- 
man, who  under  other  circumstances  would  have 
found  it  only  too  easy  to  put  him  to  the  blush,  he 
observed  with  dignity: 

"Mr.  Jeffrey,  you  are  on  oath.  We  certainly 
have  no  reason  for  not  believing  you." 

Mr.  Jeffrey  bowed.  He  was  probably  sorry  for 
his  momentary  loss  of  self-control,  and  gravely, 
but  with  eyes  bent  downward,  answered  with  the 
abrupt  phrase: 

"Well,  then,  I  will  say  no." 

The  coroner  shifted  his  ground. 

"Will  you  make  the  same  reply  when  I  ask  if  the 


180  THE   FILIGREE    BALL 

like  forbearance  was  shown  toward  your  wife's 
name  in  the  conversation  you  had  with  Miss  Tut- 
tle  immediately  afterward?" 

A  halt  in  the  eagerly  looked-for  reply ;  a  hesita- 
tion, momentary  indeed,  but  pregnant  with  name- 
less suggestions,  caused  his  answer,  when  it  did 
come,  to  lose  some  of  the  emphasis  he  manifestly 
wished  to  put  into  it. 

"Miss  Tuttle  was  Mrs.  Jeffrey's  half-sister.  The 
bond  between  them  was  strong.  Would  she — 
would  I — be  apt  to  speak  of  my  young  wife  with 
bitterness?" 

"That  is  not  an  answer  to  my  question,  Mr. 
Jeffrey.  I  must  request  a  more  positive  reply." 

Miss  Tuttle  made  a  move.  The  strain  on  all 
present  was  so  great  we  could  but  notice  it.  He 
noticed  it  too,  for  his  brows  came  together  with  a 
quick  frown,  as  he  emphatically  replied: 

"There  were  no  recriminations  uttered.  Mrs. 
Jeffrey  had  displeased  me  and  I  said  so,  but  I  did 
not  forget  that  I  was  speaking  of  my  wife  and  to 
her  sister." 

As  this  was  in  the  highest  degree  non-committal, 
the  coroner  could  be  excused  for  persisting. 

"The  conversation,  then,  was  about  your  wife?" 

"It  was." 

"In  criticism  of  her  conduct?" 

"Yes." 


THRUST  AND  PARRY  181 

"At  the  ambassador's  ball?" 

"Yes." 

Mr.  Jeffrey  was  a  poor  hand  at  lying.  That  last 
"yes"  came  with  great  effort. 

The  coroner  waited,  possibly  for  the  echo  of  this 
last  "yes"  to  cease ;  then  he  remarked  with  a  cold- 
ness which  lifted  at  once  the  veil  from  his  hitherto 
well  disguised  antagonism  to  this  witness : 

"If  you  will  recount  to  us  anything  which  your 
wife  said  or  did  on  that  evening  which,  in  your 
mind,  was  worthy  of  all  this  coil,  it  might  help 
us  to  understand  the  situation." 

But  the  witness  made  no  attempt  to  do  so,  and 
while  many  of  us  were  ready  to  pardon  him  this 
show  of  delicacy,  others  felt  that  under  the  circum- 
stances it  would  have  been  better  had  he  been  more 
open. 

Among  the  latter  was  the  coroner  himself,  who, 
from  this  moment,  threw  aside  all  hesitation  and 
urged  forward  his  inquiries  in  a  way  to  press  the 
witness  closer  and  closer  toward  the  net  he  was 
secretly  holding  out  for  him.  First,  he  obliged 
him  to  say  that  his  conversation  with  Miss  Tuttle 
had  not  tended  to  smooth  matters ;  that  no  reconcil- 
iation with  his  wife  had  followed  it,  and  that  in 
the  thirty-six  hours  which  elapsed  before  he  re- 
turned home  again  he  had  made  no  attempt  to 
soothe  the  feelings  of  one,  who,  according  to  his 


182  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

own  story,  he  considered  hardly  responsible  for  any 
extravagances  in  which  she  might  have  indulged. 
Then  when  this  inconsistency  had  been  given  time 
to  sink  into  the  minds  of  the  jury,  Coroner  Z. 
increased  the  effect  produced  by  confronting  Jef- 
frey with  witnesses  who  testified  to  the  friendly,  if 
not  lover-like  relations  which  had  existed  between 
himself  and  Miss  Tuttle  prior  to  the  appearance  of 
his  wife  upon  the  scene;  closing  with  a  question 
which  brought  out  the  denial,  by  no  means  new, 
that  an  engagement  had  ever  taken  place  between 
him  and  Miss  Tuttle  and  hence  that  a  bond  had 
been  canceled  by  his  marriage  with  Miss  Moore. 

But  his  manner  and  careful  choice  of  words  in 
making  this  denial  did  not  satisfy  those  present 
of  his  entire  candor ;  especially  as  Miss  Tuttle,  for 
all  her  apparent  immobility,  showed,  by  the  violent 
locking  of  her  hands,  both  her  anxiety  and  the  suf- 
fering she  was  undergoing  during  this  painful 
examination.  Was  the  suffering  merely  one  of 
outraged  delicacy?  We  felt  justified  in  doubting 
it,  and  looked  forward,  with  cruel  curiosity  I  admit, 
to  the  moment  when  this  renowned  and  universally 
admired  beauty  would  be  called  on  to  throw  aside 
her  veil  and  reveal  the  highly  praised  features 
which  had  been  so  openly  scorned  for  the  sake  of 
one  whose  chief  claims  to  regard  lay  in  her  great 
wealth. 


THRUST  AND  PARRY  183 

But  this  moment  was  as  yet  far  distant.  The 
coroner  was  a  man  of  method,  and  his  plan  was 
now  to  prove,  as  had  been  apparent  to  most  of  us 
from  the  first,  that  the  assumption  of  suicide  on  the 
part  of  Mrs.  Jeffrey  was  open  to  doubt.  The  com- 
munication suggesting  such  an  end  to  her  troubles 
was  the  strongest  proof  Mr.  Jeffrey  could  bring 
forward  that  her  death  had  been  the  result  of  her 
own  act.  Consequently  it  was  now  the  coroner's 
business  to  show  that  this  communication  was  either 
a  forgery,  or  a  substitution,  and  that  if  she 
left  some  word  in  the  book  to  which  she  had  in  so 
peculiar  a  manner  directed  his  attention,  it  was 
not  necessarily  the  one  bewailing  her  absence  of 
love  for  him  and  her  consequent  intention  of  seek- 
ing relief  from  her  disappointment  in  death. 

Some  hint  of  what  the  coroner  contemplated  had 
already  escaped  him  in  the  persistent  and  seem- 
ingly inconsequent  questions  to  which  he  had 
subjected  this  witness  in  reference  to  these  very 
matters.  But  the  time  had  now  come  for  a  more 
direct  attack,  and  the  interest  rose  correspondingly 
high,  when  the  coroner,  lifting  again  to  sight  the 
scrap  of  paper  containing  the  few  piteous  lines  so 
often  quoted,  asked  of  the  now  anxious  and  agitated 
witness,  if  he  had  ever  noticed  any  similarity  be- 
tween the  handwriting  of  his  wife  and  that  of  Miss 
Tuttle. 


184  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

An  indignant  "No!"  was  about  to  pass  his  lips, 
when  he  suddenly  checked  himself  and  said  more 
mildly:  "There  may  have  been  a  similarity;  I 
hardly  know,  I  have  seen  too  little  of  Miss  Tuttle's 
hand  to  judge." 

This  occasioned  a  diversion.  Specimens  of  Miss 
Tuttle's  handwriting  were  produced,  which,  after 
having  been  duly  proved,  were  passed  down  to  the 
jury  along  with  the  communication  professedly 
signed  by  Mrs.  Jeffrey.  The  grunts  of  astonish- 
ment which  ensued  as  the  knowing  heads  drew  near 
over  these  several  papers  caused  Mr.  Jeffrey  to 
flush  and  finally  to  cry  out  with  startling  emphasis : 

"I  know  that  those  words  were  written  by  my 
wife." 

But  when  the  coroner  asked  him  his  reasons  for 
this  conviction,  he  could,  or  would  not  state  them. 

"I  have  said,"  he  stolidly  repeated ;  and  that  was 
aU. 

The  coroner  made  no  comment,  but  when,  after 
some  further  inquiry,  which  added  little  to  the  gen- 
eral knowledge,  he  dismissed  Mr.  Jeffrey  and  re- 
called Loretta,  there  was  that  in  his  tone  which 
warned  us  that  the  really  serious  portion  of  the 
day's  examination  was  about  to  begin. 


XIII 

CHIEFLY  THRUST 

The  appearance  of  this  witness  had  undergone 
a  change  since  she  last  stood  before  us.  She  was 
shame-faced  still,  but  her  manner  showed  resolve 
and  a  feverish  determination  to  face  the  situation 
which  could  but  awaken  in  the  breasts  of  those 
who  had  Mr.  Jeffrey's  honor  and  personal  welfare 
at  heart  a  nameless  dread ;  as  if  they  already  fore- 
saw the  dark  shadow  which  minute  by  minute  was 
slowly  sinking  over  a  household  which,  up  to  a 
week  ago,  had  been  the  envy  and  admiration  of  all 
Washington  society. 

The  first  answer  she  made  revealed  both  the  cause 
of  her  shame  and  the  reason  of  her  firmness.  It 
was  in  response  to  the  question  whether  she,  Loretta, 
had  seen  Miss  Tuttle  before  she  went  out  on  the 
walk  she  was  said  to  have  taken  immediately  after 
Mrs.  Jeffrey's  final  departure  from  the  house. 

Her  words  were  these: 

"I  did  sir.    I  do  not  think  Miss  Tuttle  knows  it, 
but  I  saw  her  in  Mrs.  Jeffrey's  room." 
185 


186  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

The  emphatic  tone,  offering  such  a  contrast  to 
her  former  manner  of  speech,  might  have  drawn 
all  eyes  to  the  speaker  had  not  the  person  she 
mentioned  offered  a  still  more  interesting  subject 
to  the  general  curiosity.  As  it  was,  all  glances 
flew  to  that  silent  and  seemingly  impassive  figure 
upon  which  all  open  suggestions  and  covert  in- 
nuendo had  hitherto  fallen  without  creating  more 
than  a  pressure  of  her  interlaced  fingers.  This 
direct  attack,  possibly  the  most  threatening  she 
had  received,  appeared  to  produce  no  more  effect 
upon  her  than  the  others ;  less,  perhaps,  for  no  stir 
was  visible  in  her  now,  and  to  some  eyes  she  hardly 
seemed  to  breathe. 

Curiosity,  thus  baffled,  led  the  gaze  on  to  Mr. 
Jeffrey,  and  even  to  Uncle  David;  but  the  former 
had  dropped  his  head  again  upon  his  hand,  and  the 
other — well,  there  was  little  to  observe  in  Mr.  Moore 
at  any  time,  save  the  immense  satisfaction  he 
seemed  to  take  in  himself;  so  attention  returned  to 
the  witness,  who,  by  this  time,  had  entered  upon  a 
consecutive  tale. 

As  near  as  I  can  remember,  these  are  the  words 
with  which  she  prefaced  it: 

"I  am  not  especially  proud  of  what  I  did  that 
night,  but  I  was  led  into  it  by  degrees,  and  I  am 
sure  I  beg  the  lady's  pardon."  And  then  she  went 
on  to  relate  how,  after  she  had  seen  Mrs.  Jeffrey 


CHIEFLY  THRUST  187 

leave  the  house,  she  went  into  her  room  with  the 
intention  of  putting  it  to  rights.  As  this  was  no 
more  than  her  duty,  no  fault  could  be  found  with 
her ;  but  she  owned  that  when  she  had  finished  this 
task  and  removed  all  evidence  of  Mrs.  Jeffrey's 
frenzied  condition,  she  had  no  business  to  linger 
at  the  table  turning  over  the  letters  she  found  lying 
there. 

Here  the  coroner  stopped  her  and  made  some 
inquiries  in  regard  to  these  letters,  but  as  they 
seemed  to  be  ordinary  epistles  from  friends  and 
quite  foreign  to  the  investigation,  he  allowed  her 
to  proceed. 

Her  cheeks  were  burning  now,  for  she  had  found 
herself  obliged  to  admit  that  she  had  read  enough 
of  these  letters  to  be  sure  that  they  had  no  refer- 
ence to  the  quarrel  then  pending  between  her  mis- 
tress and  Mr.  Jeffrey.  Her  eyes  fell  and  she 
looked  seriously  distressed  as  she  went  on  to  say 
that  she  was  as  conscious  then  as  now  of  having 
no  business  with  these  papers ;  so  conscious,  indeed, 
that  when  she  heard  Miss  Tuttle's  step  at  the  door, 
her  one  idea  was  to  hide  herself. 

That  she  could  stand  and  face  that  lady  never  so 
much  as  occurred  to  her.  Her  own  guilty  con- 
sciousness made  her  cheeks  too  hot  for  her  to  wish 
to  meet  an  eye  which  had  never  rested  on  her  any 
too  kindly;  so  noticing  how  straight  the  curtains 


188  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

fell  over  one  of  the  windows  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  room,  she  dashed  toward  it  and  slipped  in 
out  of  sight  just  as  Miss  Tuttle  came  in.  This 
window  was  one  seldom  used,  owing  to  the  fact 
that  it  overlooked  an  adjoining  wall,  so  she  had  no 
fear  of  Miss  Tuttle's  approaching  it.  Consequent- 
ly, she  could  stand  there  quite  at  her  ease,  and,  as 
the  curtains  in  falling  behind  her  had  not  come 
quite  together,  she  really  could  not  help  seeing  just 
what  that  lady  did. 

Here  the  witness  paused  with  every  appearance 
of  looking  for  some  token  of  disapprobation  from 
the  crowd. 

But  she  encountered  nothing  there  but  eager 
anxiety  for  her  to  proceed,  so  without  waiting  for 
the  coroner's  question,  she  added  in  so  many  words : 

"She  went  first  to  the  book-shelves." 

We  had  expected  it ;  but  yet  a  general  move- 
ment took  place,  and  a  few  suppressed  exclamations 
could  be  heard. 

"And  what  did  she  do  there?" 

"Took  down  a  book,  after  looking  carefully  up 
and  down  the  shelves." 

"What  color  of  book?" 

"A  green  one  with  red  figures  on  it.  I  could  see 
the  cover  plainly  as  she  took  it  down." 

"Like  this  one?" 

"Exactly  like  that  one." 


CHIEFLY  THRUST  189 

"And  what  did  she  do  with  this  book?" 

"Opened  it,  but  not  to  read  it.  She  was  too 
quick  in  closing  it  for  that." 

"Did  she  take  the  book  away?" 

"No ;  she  put  it  back  on  the  shelf." 

"After  opening  and  closing  it?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Did  you  see  whether  she  put  anything  into  the 
book?" 

"I  can  not  swear  that  she  did ;  but  then  her  back 
was  to  me,  and  I  could  not  have  seen  it  if  she  had." 

The  implied  suggestion  caused  some  excitement, 
but  the  coroner,  frowning  on  this,  pressed  the  girl 
to  continue,  asking  if  Miss  Tuttle  left  the  room 
immediately  after  turning  from  the  book-shelves. 
Loretta  replied  no ;  that,  on  the  contrary,  she  stood 
for  some  minutes  near  them,  gazing,  in  what  seemed 
like  a  great  distress  of  mind,  straight  upon  the 
floor;  after  which  she  moved  in  an  agitated  way 
and  with  more  than  one  anxious  look  behind  her 
into  the  adjoining  room  where  she  paused  before 
a  large  bureau.  As  this  bureau  was  devoted  en- 
tirely to  Mr.  Jeffrey's  use,  Loretta  experienced 
some  surprise  at  seeing  his  wife's  sister  •  approach 
it  in  so  stealthy  a  manner.  Consequently  she  was 
watching  with  all  her  might,  when  this  young  lady 
opened  the  upper  drawer  and,  with  very  evident 
emotion,  thrust  her  hand  into  it. 


190  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

What  she  took  out,  or  whether  she  took  out  any- 
thing, this  spy  upon  her  movements  could  not  say, 
for  when  Loretta  heard  the  drawer  being  pushed 
back  into  place  she  drew  the  curtains  close,  per- 
ceiving that  Miss  Tuttle  would  have  to  face  this 
window  in  coming  back.  However,  she  ventured 
upon  one  other  peep  through  them  just  as  that 
lady  was  leaving  the  room,  and  remembered  as  if  it 
were  yesterday  how  clay-white  her  face  looked,  and 
how  she  held  her  left  hand  pressed  close  against 
the  folds  of  her  dress.  It  was  but  a  few  minutes 
after  this  that  Miss  Tuttle  left  the  house. 

As  we  all  knew  what  was  kept  in  that  drawer,  the 
conclusion  was  obvious.  Whatever  excuse  Miss 
Tuttle  might  give  for  going  into  her  sister's  room 
gt  this  time,  but  one  thought,  one  fear,  or  possibly 
one  hope,  could  have  taken  her  to  Mr.  Jeffrey's 
private  drawer.  She  wished  to  see  if  his  pistol 
was  still  there,  or  if  it  had  been  taken  away  by  her 
sister, — a  revelation  of  the  extreme  point  to  which 
her  thoughts  had  flown  at  this  crisis,  and  one 
which  effectually  contradicted  her  former  state- 
ment that  she  had  been  conscious  of  no  alarm  in 
behalf  of  her  sister  and  had  seen  her  leave  the 
house  without  dread  or  suspicion  of  evil. 

The  temerity  which  had  made  it  possible  to  as- 
sociate the  name  of  such  a  man  as  Francis  Jeffrey 
with  an  outrageous  crime  having  been  thus  in  a 


CHIEFLY  THRUST  191 

measure  explained,  the  coroner  recalled  that  gen- 
tleman and  again  thoroughly  surprised  the  gaping 
public. 

Had  the  witness  accompanied  his  wife  to  the 
Moore  house? 

"No." 

Had  he  met  her  there  by  any  appointment  he 
had  made  with  her  or  which  had  been  made  for 
them  both  by  some  third  person? 

"No." 

Had  he  been  at  the  Moore  house  on  the  night 
of  the  eleventh  at  any  time  previous  to  the  hour 
when  he  was  brought  there  by  the  officials? 

"No." 

Would  he  glance  at  this  impression  of  certain 
finger-tips  which  had  been  left  in  the  dust  of  the 
southwest  chamber  mantel? 

He  had  already  noted  them. 

Now  would  he  place  his  left  hand  on  the  paper 
and  see — 

"It  is  not  necessary,"  he  burst  forth,  in  great 
heat.  "I  own  to  those  marks.  That  is,  I  have  no 
doubt  they  were  made  by  my  hand."  Here,  un- 
consciously, his  eyes  flew  to  the  member  thus  re- 
ferred to,  as  if  conscious  that  in  some  way  it  had 
proved  a  traitor  to  him ;  after  which  his  gaze  trav- 
eled slowly  my  way,  with  an  indescribable  question 
in  it  which  roused  my  conscience  and  made  the 


192  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

trick  by  which  I  had  got  the  impression  of  his 
hand  seem  less  of  a  triumph  than  I  had  heretofore 
considered  it.  The  next  minute  he  was  answering 
the  coroner  under  oath,  very  much  as  he  had  an- 
swered him  in  the  unofficial  interview  at  which  I  had 
been  present. 

"I  acknowledge  having  been  in  the  Moore 
house  and  even  having  been  in  its  southwest 
chamber,  but  not  at  the  time  supposed.  It  was  on 
the  previous  night."  He  went  on  to  relate  how, 
being  in  a  nervous  condition  and  having  the  key 
to  this  old  dwelling  in  his  pocket,  he  had  amused 
himself  by  going  through  its  dilapidated  in- 
terior. All  of  this  made  a  doubtful  impression 
which  was  greatly  emphasized  when,  in  reply  to  the 
inquiry  as  to  where  he  got  the  light  to  see  by,  he 
admitted  that  he  had  come  upon  a  candle  in  an  up- 
stairs room  and  made  use  of  that ;  though  he  could 
not  remember  what  he  had  done  with  this  candle 
afterward,  and  looked  dazed  and  quite  at  sea,  till 
the  coroner  suggested  that  he  might  have  carried 
it  into  the  closet  of  the  room  where  his  fingers  had 
left  their  impression  in  the  dust  of  the  mantel-shelf. 
Then  he  broke  down  like  a  man  from  whom  some 
prop  is  suddenly  snatched  and  looked  around 
for  a  seat.  This  was  given  him,  while  a  silence,  the 
most  dreadful  I  ever  experienced,  held  every  one 
there  in  check.  But  he  speedily  rallied  and,  with 


CHIEFLY  THRUST  193 

the  remark  that  he  was  a  little  confused  in  regard 
to  the  incidents  of  that  night,  waited  with  a  wild 
look  in  his  averted  eye  for  the  coroner's  next  ques- 
tion. 

Unhappily  for  him  it  was  in  continuation  of 
the  same  subject.  Had  he  bought  candles  or  not 
at  the  grocer's  around  the  corner?  Yes,  he  had. 
Before  visiting  the  house?  Yes.  Had  he  also 
bought  matches?  Yes.  What  kind?  Common 
safety  matches.  Had  he  noticed  when  he  got 
home  that  the  box  he  had  just  bought  was  half 
empty?  No.  Nevertheless  he  had  used  many 
matches  in  going  through  this  old  house,  had  he 
not?  Possibly.  To  light  his  way  upstairs,  per- 
haps? It  might  be.  Had  he  not  so  used  them? 
Yes.  Why  had  he  done  so,  if  he  had  candles  in 
his  pocket,  which  were  so  much  easier  to  hold  and  so 
much  more  lasting  than  a  lighted  match?  Ah,  he 
could  not  say ;  he  did  not  know ;  his  mind  was  con- 
fused. He  was  awake  when  he  should  have  been 
asleep.  It  was  all  a  dream  to  him. 

The  coroner  became  still  more  persistent. 

"Did  you  enter  the  library  on  your  solitary  visit 
to  this  old  house?" 

"I  believe  so." 

"What  did  you  do  there?" 

"Pottered  around.      I  don't  remember." 

"What  light  did  you  use?" 


194.  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

"A  candle,  I  think." 

"You  must  know." 

"Well,  I  had  a  candle ;  it  was  in  a  candelabrum." 

"What  candle  and  what  candelabrum?" 

"The  same  I  used  upstairs,  of  course." 

"And  you  can  not  remember  where  you  left  this 
candle  and  candelabrum  when  you  finally  quitted 
the  house?" 

"No.     I  wasn't  thinking  about  candles." 

"What  were  you  thinking  about?" 

"The  rupture  with  my  wife  and  the  bad  name  of 
the  house  I  was  in." 

"Oh!  and  this  was  on  Tuesday  night?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"How  can  you  prove  this  to  us  ?" 

"I  can  not." 

"But  you  swear — " 

"I  swear  that  it  was  Tuesday  night,  the  night 
immediately  preceding  the  one  when — when  my 
wife's  death  robbed  me  of  all  earthly  happiness." 

It  was  feelingly  uttered,  and  several  faces  light- 
ened ;  but  the  coroner  repeating :  "Is  there  no  way 
you  can  prove  this  to  our  satisfaction  ?"  the  shadow 
settled  again,  and  on  no  head  more  perceptibly  than 
on  that  of  the  unfortunate  witness. 

It  was  now  late  in  the  day  and  the  atmosphere 
of  the  room  had  become  stifling ;  but  no  one  seemed 
to  be  conscious  of  any  discomfort,  and  a  general 


CHIEFLY  THRUST  195 

gasp  of  excitement  passed  through  the  room  when 
the  coroner,  taking  out  a  box  from  under  a  pile 
of  papers,  disclosed  to  the  general  gaze  the  famous 
white  ribbon  with  its  dainty  bow,  lying  on  top  of 
the  fatal  pistol. 

That  this  special  feature,  the  most  interesting 
one  of  all  connected  with  this  tragedy,  should  have 
been  kept  so  long  in  reserve  and  brought  out  just 
at  this  time,  struck  many  of  Mr.  Jeffrey's  closest 
friends  as  unnecessarily  dramatic;  but  when  the 
coroner,  lifting  out  the  ribbon,  remarked  tentative- 
ly, "You  know  this  ribbon?"  we  were  more  struck 
by  the  involuntary  cry  of  surprise  which  rose  from 
some  one  in  the  crowd  about  the  door,  than  by  the 
look  with  which  Mr.  Jeffrey  eyed  it  and  made  the 
necessary  reply.  That  cry  had  something  more 
than  nervous  excitement  in  it.  Identifying  the  per- 
son who  had  uttered  it  as  a  certain  busy  little  wom- 
an well  known  in  town,  I  sent  an  officer  to  watch 
her;  then  recalled  my  attention  to  the  point  the 
coroner  was  attempting  to  make.  He  had  forced 
Mr.  Jeffrey  to  recognize  the  ribbon  as  the  one  which 
had  fastened  the  pistol  to  his  wife's  arm;  now  he 
asked  whether,  in  his  opinion,  a  woman  could  tie 
such  a  bow  to  her  own  wrist,  and  when  in  common 
justice  Mr.  Jeffrey  was  obliged  to  say  no,  waited 
a  third  time  before  he  put  the  general  suspicion 
again  into  words: 


196  THE   FILIGREE   BALL 

"Can  not  you,  by  some  means  or  some  witness, 
prove  to  us  that  it  was  on  Tuesday  night  and  not 
on  Wednesday  you  spent  the  hours  you  speak  of  on 
this  scene  of  your  marriage  and  your  wife's 
death?" 

The  hopelessness  which  more  than  once  had 
marked  Mr.  Jeffrey's  features  since  the  beginning 
of  this  inquiry,  reappeared  with  renewed  force  as 
this  suggestive  question  fell  again  upon  his  ears; 
and  he  was  about  to  repeat  his  plea  of  forgetful- 
ness  when  the  coroner's  attention  was  diverted  by 
a  request  made  in  his  ear  by  one  of  the  detectives. 
In  another  moment  Mr.  Jeffrey  had  been  waved 
aside  and  a  new  witness  sworn  in. 

You  can  imagine  every  one's  surprise,  mine  most 
of  all,  when  this  witness  proved  to  be  Uncle  David, 


XIV 

"TALLMAN  !  LET  us  HAVE  TALLMAN  !" 

I  do  not  know  why  the  coroner  had  so  long 
delayed  to  call  this  witness.  In  the  ordinary  course 
of  events  his  testimony  should  have  preceded  mine, 
but  the  ordinary  course  of  events  had  not  been  fol- 
lowed, and  it  was  only  at  the  request  of  Mr.  Moore 
himself  that  he  was  now  allowed  the  privilege  of 
appearing  before  this  coroner  and  jury. 

I  speak  of  it  as  a  privilege  because  he  himself 
evidently  regarded  it  as  such.  Indeed,  his  whole 
attitude  and  bearing  as  he  addressed  himself  to  the 
coroner  showed  that  he  was  there  to  be  looked  at 
and  that  he  secretly  thought  he  was  very  well  worth 
this  attention.  Possibly  some  remembrance  of  the  old 
days,  in  which  he  had  gone  in  and  out  before  these 
people  in  a  garb  suggestive  of  penury,  made  the 
moment  when  he  could  appear  before  them  in  a 
guise  more  befitting  his  station  one  of  incalculable 
importance  to  him. 

At  all  events,  he  confronted  us  all  with  an  aspect 
which  openly  challenged  admiration,  When,  in 
197 


198  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

answer  to  the  coroner's  inquiries,  it  became  his  duty 
to  speak,  he  did  so  with  a  condescension  which 
would  have  called  up  smiles  if  the  occasion  had 
been  one  of  less  seriousness,  and  his  connection  with 
it  as  unimportant  as  he  would  have  it  appear. 

What  he  said  was  in  the  way  of  confirming  the 
last  witness'  testimony  as  to  his  having  been  at 
the  Moore  house  on  Tuesday  evening.  Mr.  Moore, 
who  was  very  particular  as  to  dates  and  days,  ad- 
mitted that  the  light  which  he  had  seen  in  a  certain 
window  of  his  ancestral  home  on  the  evening  when 
he  summoned  the  police  was  but  the  repetition  of 
one  he  had  detected  there  the  evening  before.  It 
was  this  repetition  which  alarmed  him  and  caused 
him  to  break  through  all  his  usual  habits  and  leave 
his  home  at  night  to  notify  the  police. 

"The  old  sneak !"  thought  I.  "Why  didn't  he 
tell  us  this  before?"  And  I  allowed  myself  a  fresh 
doubt  of  his  candor  which  had  always  seemed  to  me 
somewhat  open  to  question.  It  is  possible  that  the 
coroner  shared  my  opinion,  or  that  he  felt  it  incum- 
bent upon  him  to  get  what  evidence  he  could  from 
the  sole  person  living  within  view  of  the  house  in 
which  such  ghastly  events  had  taken  place.  For, 
without  betraying  the  least  suspicion,  and  yet  with 
the  quiet  persistence  for  which  men  in  his  responsi- 
ble position  are  noted,  he  subjected  this  suave  old 


"LET  US  HAVE  TALLMAN!"        199 

man  to  such  a  rigid  examination  as  to  what  he  had 
seen,  or  had  not  seen,  from  his  windows,  that  no 
possibility  seemed  to  remain  of  his  concealing  a 
single  fact  which  could  help  to  the  elucidation 
of  this  or  any  other  mystery  connected  with  the  old 
mansion. 

He  asked  him  if  he  had  seen  Mr.  Jeffrey  go 
in  on  the  night  in  question;  if  he  had  ever  seen 
any  one  go  in  there  since  the  wedding;  or  even  if 
he  had  seen  any  one  loitering  about  the  steps,  or 
sneaking  into  the  rear  yard.  But  the  answer  was 
always  no ;  these  same  noes  growing  more  and  more 
emphatic,  and  the  gentleman  more  and  more  im- 
penetrable and  dignified  as  the  examination  went 
on.  In  fact,  he  was  as  unassailable  a  witness  as  I 
have  ever  heard  testify  before  any  jury.  Beyond 
the  fact  already  mentioned  of  his  having  observed 
a  light  in  the  opposite  house  on  the  two  evenings  in 
question,  he  admitted  nothing.  His  life  in  the  little 
cottage  was  so  engrossing — he  had  his  organ — his 
dog — why  should  he  look  out  of  the  window? 
Had  it  not  been  for  his  usual  habit  of  letting 
his  dog  run  the  pavements  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
before  finally  locking  up  for  the  night,  he  would 
not  have  seen  as  much  as  he  did. 

"Have  you  any  stated  hour  for  doing  this?"  the 
coroner  now  asked. 


200  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

"Yes;  half-past  nine." 

"And  was  this  the  hour  when  you  saw  that 
light?" 

"Yes,  both  times." 

As  he  had  appeared  at  the  station-house  at  a 
few  minutes  before  ten  he  was  probably  correct  in 
this  statement.  But,  notwithstanding  this,  I  did 
not  feel  implicit  confidence  in  him.  He  was  too  in- 
sistent in  his  regret  at  not  being  able  to  give  greater 
assistance  in  the  disentanglement  of  a  mystery  so 
affecting  the  honor  of  the  family  of  which  he  was 
now  the  recognized  head.  His  voice,  nicely  attuned 
to  the  occasion,  was  admirable ;  so  was  his  manner ; 
but  I  mentally  wrote  him  down  as  one  I  should  en- 
joy outwitting  if  the  opportunity  ever  came  my 
way. 

He  wound  up  with  such  a  distinct  repetition  of 
his  former  emphatic  assertion  as  to  the  presence  of 
light  in  the  old  house  on  Tuesday  as  well  as  Wed- 
nesday evening  that  Mr.  Jeffrey's  testimony  in  this 
regard  received  a  decided  confirmation.  I  looked 
to  see  some  open  recognition  of  this,  when  sud- 
denly, and  with  a  persistence  understood  only  by 
the  police,  the  coroner  recalled  Mr.  Jeffrey  and 
asked  him  what  proof  he  had  to  offer  that  his  visit 
of  Tuesday  had  not  been  repeated  the  next  night 
and  that  he  was  not  in  the  building  when  that  fata] 
trigger  was  pulled. 


"LET  US  HAVE  TALLMAN!"        801 

At  this  leading  question,  a  lawyer  sitting  near 
me,  edged  himself  forward  as  if  he  hoped  for  some 
sign  from  Mr.  Jeffrey  which  would  warrant  him  in 
interfering.  But  Mr.  Jeffrey  gave  no  such  sign. 
I  doubt  if  he  even  noticed  this  man's  proximity, 
though  he  knew  him  well  and  had  often  employed 
him  as  his  legal  adviser  in  times  gone  by.  He  was 
evidently  exerting  himself  to  recall  the  name  which 
so  persistently  eluded  his  memory,  putting  his  hand 
to  his  head  and  showing  the  utmost  confusion. 

"I  can  not  give  you  one,"  he  finally  stam- 
mered. "There  is  a  man  who  could  tell — if  only 
I  could  remember  his  name."  Suddenly  with  a 
loud  cry  which  escaped  him  involuntarily,  he  gave  a 
gurgling  laugh  and  we  heard  the  name  "Tollman!" 
leap  from  his  lips. 

The  witness  had  at  last  remembered  whom  he  had 
met  at  the  cemetery  gate  at  the  hour,  or  near  the 
hour,  his  wife  lay  dying  in  the  lower  part  of  the 
city. 

The  effect  was  electrical.  One  of  the  spectators 
— some  country  boor,  no  doubt — so  far  forgot  him- 
self as  to  cry  out  loud  enough  for  all  to  hear: 

"Tallman!    Let  us  have  Tallman!" 

Of  course  he  met  with  an  instant  rebuke,  but  I 
did  not  wait  to  hear  it,  or  to  see  order  restored,  for 
a  glance  from  the  coroner  had  already  sent  me  to 
the  door  in  search  of  this  new  witness. 


202  THE   FILIGREE   BALL 

My  destination  was  the  Cosmos  Club,  for  Phil 
Tallman  and  his  habits  and  haunts  were  as  well 
known  in  Washington  as  the  figure  of  Liberty  on 
the  summit  of  the  Capitol  dome.  When  I  saw  him 
I  did  not  wonder.  Never  have  I  seen  a  more 
amiable  looking  man,  or  one  with  a  more  absent- 
minded  expression.  To  my  query  as  to  whether 
he  had  ever  met  Mr.  Jeffrey  at  or  near  the  en- 
trance of  Rock  Creek  Cemetery,  he  replied  with  an 
amazed  look  and  the  quick  response : 

"Of  course  I  did.  It  was  the  very  night  that  his 
wife —  But  what's  up?  You  look  excited  for  a 
detective." 

"Come  to  the  morgue  and  see.  This  testimony 
of  yours  will  prove  invaluable  to  Mr.  Jeffrey." 

I  shall  never  forget  the  murmur  of  suppressed 
excitement  which  greeted  us  as  I  reappeared  before 
coroner  and  jury  accompanied  by  the  gentleman 
who  had  been  called  for  in  such  peremptory  tones  a 
short  time  before. 

Mr.  Jeffrey,  who  had  attempted  to  rise  at  our 
entrance,  but  seemed  to  lack  the  ability,  gave  a 
faint  smile  as  Tallman's  good-natured  face  ap- 
peared; and  the  coroner,  feeling,  perhaps,  that 
some  cords  are  liable  to  break  if  stretched  too 
strongly,  administered  the  oath  and  made  the  nec- 
essary inquiries  with  as  little  delay  as  was  com- 
patible with  the  solemnity  of  the  occasion. 


"LET  US  HAVE  TALLMAN !"        203 

The  result  was  an  absolute  proof  that  Mr.  Jef- 
frey had  been  near  Soldiers'  Home  as  late  as 
seven,  which  was  barely  fifteen  minutes  previous 
to  the  hour  Mrs.  Jeffrey's  watch  was  stopped  by 
her  fall  in  the  old  house  on  Waverley  Avenue.  As 
the  distance  between  the  two  places  could  not  be 
compassed  in  that  time,  Mr.  Jeffrey's  alibi  could 
be  regarded  as  established. 

When  we  were  all  rising,  glad  of  an  adjournment 
which  restored  free  movement  and  an  open  inter- 
change of  speech,  a  sudden  check  in  the  general 
rush  called  our  attention  back  to  Mr.  Jeffrey.  He 
was  standing  facing  Miss  Tuttle,  who  was  still 
sitting  in  a  strangely  immovable  attitude  in  her 
old  place.  He  had  just  touched  her  on  the  arm, 
and  now,  with  a  look  of  alarm,  he  threw  up  the 
veil  which  had  kept  her  face  hidden  from  all  be- 
holders. 

A  vision  of  loveliness  greeted  us,  but  that  was 
not  all.  It  was  an  unconscious  loveliness.  Miss 
Tuttle  had  fainted  away,  sitting  upright  in  her 
chair. 


XV 

WHITE    BOW    AND    PINK 

Mr.  Jeffrey's  examination  and  its  triumphant 
conclusion  created  a  great  furor  in  town.  Topics 
which  had  hitherto  absorbed  all  minds  were  for- 
gotten in  the  discussion  of  the  daring  attempt 
which  had  been  made  by  the  police  to  fix  crime  upon 
one  of  Washington's  most  esteemed  citizens,  and 
the  check  which  they  had  rightly  suffered  for  this 
outrage.  What  might  be  expected  next?  Some- 
thing equally  bold  and  reprehensible,  of  course,  but 
what?  It  was  a  question  which  at  the  next  sitting 
completely  filled  the  inquest  room. 

To  my  great  surprise,  Mr.  Jeffrey  was  recalled 
to  the  stand.  He  had  changed  since  the  night  be- 
fore. He  looked  older,  and  while  still  handsome, — 
for  nothing  could  rob  him  of  his  regularity  of 
feature  and  extreme  elegance  of  proportion, — 
showed  little  of  the  spirit  which,  in  spite  of  the  pre- 
vious day's  depression,  had  upheld  him  through  its 
most  trying  ordeal  and  kept  his  eye  bright,  if  only 
from  excitement.  This  was  fact  number  one,  and 
204 


WHITE  BOW  AND  PINK  205 

one  which  I  stored  away  in  my  already  well-fur- 
nished memory. 

Miss  Tuttle  sat  in  a  less  conspicuous  position 
than  on  the  previous  day,  and  Mr.  Moore,  her 
uncle,  was  not  there  at  all. 

The  testimony  called  for  revived  an  old  point 
which,  seemingly,  had  not  been  settled  to  the  cor- 
oner's satisfaction. 

Had  Mr.  Jeffrey  placed  the  small  stand  holding 
the  candelabrum  on  the  spot  where  it  had  been 
found?  No.  Had  he  carried  into  the  house,  at  the 
time  of  his  acknowledged  visit,  the  candles  which 
had  been  afterward  discovered  there?  No.  He  had 
had  time  to  think  since  his  hesitating  and  unsatis- 
factory replies  of  the  day  before,  and  he  was  now 
in  a  position  to  say  that  while  he  distinctly  remem- 
bered buying  candles  on  his  way  to  the  Moore 
house,  he  had  not  found  them  in  his  pocket  on  get- 
ting there  and  had  been  obliged  to  make  use  of  the 
matches  he  always  carried  on  his  person  in  order  to 
find  his  way  to  the  upstairs  room  where  he  felt  pos- 
itive he  would  find  a  candle. 

This  gave  the  coroner  an  opportunity  to  ask : 

"And  why  did  you  expect  to  find  a  candle  there  ?" 

The  answer  astonished  me  and,  I  have  no  doubt, 
many  others. 

"It  was  the  room  in  which  my  wife  had  dressed 
for  the  ceremony.  It  had  not  been  disturbed  since 


206  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

that  time.  My  wife  had  little  ways  of  her  own; 
one  was  to  complete  her  toilet  by  using  a  curling 
iron  on  a  little  lock  she  wore  over  her  temple.  When 
at  home  she  heated  this  curling  iron  in  the  gas  jet, 
but  there  being  no  gas  in  the  Moore  house,  I  nat- 
urally concluded  that  she  had  made  use  of  a  candle, 
as  the  curl  had  been  noticeable  under  her  veil." 

Oh,  the  weariness  in  his  tone!  I  could  scarcely 
interpret  it.  Was  he  talking  by  rote,  or  was  he 
utterly  done  with  life  and  all  its  interests?  No  one 
besides  myself  seemed  to  note  this  strange  passiv- 
ity. To  the  masses  he  was  no  longer  a  suffering 
man,  but  an  individual  from  whom  information 
was  to  be  got.  The  next  question  was  a  vital  one. 

He  had  accounted  for  one  candle  in  the  house; 
could  he  account  for  the  one  found  in  the  tumbler 
or  for  the  one  lying  crushed  and  battered  on  the 
closet  floor? 

He  could  not. 

And  now  we  all  observed  a  change  of  direction 
in  the  inquiry.  Witnesses  were  summoned  to  cor- 
roborate Mr.  Jeffrey's  statements,  statements  which 
it  seemed  to  be  the  coroner's  present  wish  to  es- 
tablish. First  came  the  grocer  who  had  sold  Mr. 
Jeffrey  the  candles.  He  acknowledged,  much  to 
Jinny's  discomfort,  that  an  hour  after  Mr.  Jef- 
frey had  left  the  store,  he  had  found  on  the  counter 
the  package  which  that  gentleman  had  forgotten 


WHITE  BOW  AND  PINK  207 

to  take.  Poor  Jinny  had  not  stayed  long  enough 
to  hear  his  story  out.  The  grocer  finished  his  tes- 
timony by  saying  that  immediately  upon  his  dis- 
covery he  had  sent  the  candles  to  Mr.  Jeffrey's 
house. 

This  the  coroner  caused  to  be  emphasized  to  such 
an  extent  that  we  were  all  convinced  of  its  impor- 
tance. But  as  yet  his  purpose  was  not  evident  save 
to  those  who  were  more  in  his  confidence  than  my- 
self. 

The  other  witnesses  were  men  from  Raucher's, 
who  had  acted  as  waiters  at  the  time  of  the  mar- 
riage. One  of  them  testified  that  immediately  on 
Miss  Moore's  arrival  he  had  been  sent  for  a  candle 
and  a  box  of  matches.  The  other,  that  he  had 
carried  up  to  her  room  a  large  candelabrum  from 
the  drawing-room  mantel.  A  pair  of  curling  tongs 
taken  from  the  dressing  table  of  this  room  was  next 
produced,  together  with  other  articles  of  toilet  use 
which  had  been  allowed  to  remain  there  uncared 
for,  though  they  were  of  solid  silver  and  of  beau- 
tiful design. 

The  next  witness  was  a  member  of  Mr.  Jeffrey's 
own  household.  Chloe  was  her  name,  and  her  good 
black  face  worked  dolefully  as  she  admitted  that 
the  package  of  candles  which  the  grocer  boy  had 
left  on  the  kitchen  table,  with  the  rest  of  the  gro- 
ceries on  the  morning  of  that  dreadful  day  when 


208  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

"Missus"  killed  herself,  was  not  to  be  found  when 
she  came  to  put  the  things  away.  She  had  looked 
and  looked  for  it,  but  it  was  not  there. 

Further  inquiry  brought  out  the  fact  that  but 
one  other  member  of  the  household  was  in  the 
kitchen  when  these  groceries  were  delivered ;  and 
that  this  person  gave  a  great  start  when  the  boy 
shouted  out,  "The  candles  there  were  bought  by 
Mr.  Jeffrey,"  and  hurried  over  to  the  table  and 
handled  the  packages,  although  Chloe  did  not  see 
her  carry  any  of  them  away. 

"And  who  was  this  person?" 

"Miss  Tuttle." 

With  the  utterance  of  this  name  the  veil  fell  from 
the  coroner's  intentions  and  the  purpose  of  this 
petty  but  prolonged  inquiry  stood  revealed.  It  was 
to  all  a  fearful  and  impressive  moment.  To  me  it 
was  as  painful  as  it  was  triumphant.  I  had  not  anti- 
cipated such  an  outcome  when  I  put  my  wits  to  work 
to  prove  that  murder,  and  not  suicide,  was  answer- 
able for  young  Mrs.  Jeffrey's  death. 

When  the  murmur  which  had  hailed  this  startling 
turn  in  the  inquiry  had  subsided,  the  coroner  drew 
a  deep  breath,  and,  with  an  uneasy  glance  at  the 
jury,  who,  to  a  man,  seemed  to  wish  themselves 
well  out  of  this  job,  he  dismissed  the  cook  and  sum- 
moned a  fresh  witness. 

Her  name  made  the  people  stare. 


WHITE  BOW  AND  PINK  209 

"Miss  Nixon." 

Miss  Nixon!  That  was  a  name  well  known  in 
Washington ;  almost  as  well  known  as  that  of  Uncle 
David,  or  even  of  Mr.  Tallman.  What  could  this 
quaint  and  characteristic  little  body  have  to  do  with 
this  case  of  doubtful  suicide?  A  word  will  explain. 
She  was  the  person  who,  on  the  day  before,  had 
made  that  loud  exclamation  when  the  box  contain- 
ing the  ribbon  and  the  pistol  had  been  disclosed  to 
the  jury. 

As  her  fussy  little  figure  came  forward,  some 
nudged  and  some  laughed,  possibly  because  her  bon- 
net was  not  of  this  year's  style,  possibly  because 
her  manner  was  peculiar  and  as  full  of  oddities  as 
her  attire.  But  they  did  not  laugh  long,  for  the 
little  lady's  look  was  appealing,  if  not  distressed. 
The  fact  that  she  was  generally  known  to  possess 
one  of  the  largest  bank  accounts  in  the  District, 
made  any  marked  show  of  disrespect  toward  her  a 
matter  of  poor  judgment,  if  not  of  questionable 
taste. 

The  box  in  the  coroner's  hand  prepared  us  for 
what  was  before  us.  As  he  opened  it  and  disclosed 
again  the  dainty  white  bow  which,  as  I  have  before 
said,  was  of  rather  a  fantastic  make,  the  whole 
roomful  of  eager  spectators  craned  forward  and 
were  startled  enough  when  he  asked: 

"Did  you  ever  see  a  bow  like  this  before?" 


210  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

Her  answer  came  in  the  faintest  of  tones. 

"Yes,  I  have  one  like  it ;  very  like  it ;  so  like  it 
that  yesterday  I  could  not  suppress  an  exclamation 
on  seeing  this  one." 

"Where  did  you  get  the  one  you  have?  Who 
fashioned  it,  I  mean,  or  tied  it  for  you,  if  that 
is  what  I  ought  to  say?" 

"It  was  tied  for  me  by— Miss  Tuttle.  She  is  a 
friend  of  mine,  or  was — and  a  very  good  one ;  and 
one  day  while  watching  me  struggling  with  a  piece 
of  ribbon,  which  I  wanted  made  into  a  bow,  she  took 
it  from  my  hand  and  tied  a  knot  for  which  I  was 
very  much  obliged  to  her.  It  was  very  pretty." 

"And  like  this?" 

"Almost  exactly,  sir." 

"Have  you  that  knot  with  you?" 

She  had. 

"Will  you  show  it  to  the  jury?" 

Heaving  a  sigh  which  she  had  much  better  have 
suppressed,  she  opened  a  little  bag  she  carried  at 
her  side  and  took  out  a  pink  satin  bow.  It  had  been 
tied  by  a  deft  hand;  and  more  than  one  pair  of 
eyes  fell  significantly  at  sight  of  it. 

Amid  a  silence  which  was  intense,  two  or  three 
other  witnesses  were  called  to  prove  that  Miss 
Tuttle's  skill  in  bow-tying  was  exceptional,  and 
was  often  made  use  of,  not  only  by  members  of  her 


WHITE  BOW  AND  PINK  211 

household,  but,  as  in  Miss  Nixon's  case,  by  out- 
siders; the  special  style  shown  in  the  one  under 
consideration  being  the  favorite. 

During  all  this,  I  kept  my  eyes  on  Mr.  Jeffrey. 
It  had  now  become  so  evident  which  way  the  cor- 
oner's inquiries  tended  that  I  wished  to  be  the  first 
to  note  their  effect  on  him.  It  was  less  marked 
than  I  had  anticipated.  The  man  seemed  benumbed 
by  accumulated  torment  and  stared  at  the  wit- 
nesses filing  before  him  as  if  they  were  part  of  some 
wild  phantasmagoria  which  confused,  without  en- 
lightening him.  When  finally  several  persons  of 
both  sexes  were  brought  forward  to  prove  that 
his  attentions  to  Miss  Tuttle  had  once  been  suffi- 
ciently marked  for  an  announcement  of  their  en- 
gagement to  be  daily  looked  for,  he  let  his  head  fall 
forward  on  his  breast  as  if  the  creeping  horror 
which  had  seized  him  was  too  much  for  his  brain  if 
not  for  his  heart.  The  final  blow  was  struck  when 
the  man  whom  I  had  myself  seen  in  Alexandria  tes- 
tified to  the  contretemps  which  had  occurred  in  At- 
lantic City ;  an  additional  point  being  given  to  it 
by  the  repetition  of  some  old  conversation  raked  up 
for  the  purpose,  by  which  an  effort  was  made  to 
prove  that  Miss  Tuttle  found  it  hard  to  forgive 
injuries  even  from  those  nearest  and  dearest  to  her. 
This  subject  might  have  been  prolonged,  but  some 


212  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

of  the  jury  objected,  and  the  time  being  now  ripe 
for  the  great  event  of  the  day,  the  name  of  the  lady 
herself  was  called. 

After  so  significant  a  preamble,  the  mere  utter- 
ance of  Miss  Tuttle's  name  had  almost  the  force  of 
an  accusation ;  but  the  dignity  with  which  she  rose 
calmed  all  minds,  and  subdued  every  expression  of 
feeling.  I  could  but  marvel  at  her  self-poise 
and  noble  equanimity,  and  asked  myself  if,  in  the 
few  days  which  had  passed  since  first  the  murmur 
of  something  more  serious  than  suicide  had  gone 
about,  she  had  so  schooled  herself  for  all  emergen- 
cies that  nothing  could  shake  her  self-possession, — 
not  even  the  suggestion  that  a  woman  of  her  beauty 
and  distinction  could  be  concerned  in  a  crime.  Or 
had  she  within  herself  some  great  source  of 
strength,  which  sustained  her  in  this  most  dreadful 
ordeal?  All  were  on  watch  to  see.  When  the  veil 
dropped  from  before  her  features  and  she  stepped 
into  the  full  sight  of  the  expectant  crowd,  it  was 
not  the  beauty  of  her  face,  notable  and  conspicuous 
as  that  was,  which  roused  the  hum  of  surprise  that 
swept  from  one  end  of  the  room  to  the  other,  but 
the  calmness,  almost  the  elevation  of  her  manner, — 
a  calmness  and  elevation  so  unlocked  for  in  the  light 
of  the  strange  contradictions  offered  by  the  evi- 
dence to  which  we  had  been  listening  for  a  day  and 


WHITE  BOW  AND  PINK  213 

a  half,  that  all  were  affected;  many  inclined  even 
to  believe  her  innocent  of  any  undue  connection 
with  her  sister's  death  before  she  had  stretched 
forth  her  hand  to  take  the  oath. 

I  was  no  exception  to  the  rest.  Though  I  had 
exerted  myself  from  the  first  to  bring  matters  to  a 
climax — but  not  to  this  one — I  experienced  such 
a  shock  under  the  steady  gaze  of  her  sad  but 
gentle  eyes,  that  I  found  myself  recoiling  before  my 
own  presumption  with  something  like  secret  shame 
till  I  was  relieved  by  the  thought  that  a  perfectly 
innocent  woman  would  show  more  feeling  at  so  false 
and  cruel  a  position.  I  felt  that  only  one  with 
something  to  conceal  would  turn  so  calm  a  front 
upon  men  ready,  as  she  knew,  to  fix  upon  her  a 
great  crime.  This  conviction  steadied  me  and 
made  me  less  susceptible  to  her  grace  and  to  the 
tone  of  her  quiet  voice  and  the  far-away  sadness  of 
her  look.  She  faltered  only  when  by  chance  she 
glanced  at  the  shrinking  figure  of  Francis  Jeffrey. 

Her  name  which  she  uttered  without  emphasis 
and  yet  in  a  way  to  arouse  attention  sank  into  all 
hearts  with  more  or  less  disturbance. 

"Alice  Cora  Tuttle !"  How  in  days  gone  by,  and 
not  so  long  gone  by,  either,  those  three  words  had 
aroused  the  enthusiasm  of  many  a  gallant  man  and 
inspired  the  toast  at  many  a  gallant  feast !  They 


214  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

had  their  charm  yet,  if  the  heightened  color  ob- 
servable on  many  a  cheek  there  was  a  true  index  to 
the  quickening  heart  below. 

"How  are  you  connected  with  the  deceased  Mrs. 
Jeffrey?" 

"I  am  the  child  of  her  mother  by  a  former  hus- 
band. We  were  half-sisters." 

No  bitterness  in  this  statement,  only  an  infinite 
sadness.  The  coroner  continued  to  question  her. 
He  asked  for  an  account  of  her  childhood,  and 
forced  her  to  lay  bare  the  nature  of  her  relations 
with  her  sister.  But  little  was  gained  by  this,  for 
their  relations  seemed  to  have  been  of  a  sympathetic 
character  up  to  the  time  of  Veronica's  return  from 
school,  when  they  changed  somewhat ;  but  how  or 
why,  Miss  Tuttle  was  naturally  averse  to  saying. 
Indeed  she  almost  refused  to  do  so,  and  the  coroner, 
feeling  his  point  gained  more  by  this  refusal  than 
by  any  admission  she  might  have  made,  did  not 
press  this  subject  but  passed  on  to  what  interested 
us  more:  the  various  unexplained  actions  on  her 
part  which  pointed  toward  crime. 

His  first  inquiry  was  in  reference  to  the  conver- 
sation held  between  her  and  Mr.  Jeffrey  at  the 
time  he  visited  her  room.  We  had  listened  to  his 
account  of  it  and  now  we  wished  to  hear  hers.  But 
the  cue  which  had  been  given  her  by  this  very  ac- 
count had  been  invaluable  to  her,  and  her  testi- 


WHITE  BOW  AND  PINK  215 

mony  naturally  coincided  with  his.  We  found  our- 
selves not  an  inch  advanced.  They  had  talked  of 
her  sister's  follies  and  she  had  advised  patience,  and 
that  was  all  she  could  say  on  the  subject — all  she 
would  say,  as  we  presently  saw. 

The  coroner  introduced  a  fresh  topic. 

"What  can  you  tell  us  about  the  interview  you 
had  with  you  sister  prior  to  her  going  out  on  the 
night  of  her  death?" 

"Very  little,  except  that  it  differed  entirely  from 
what  is  generally  supposed.  She  did  not  come  to  my 
room  for  conversation  but  simply  to  tell  me  that  she 
had  an  engagement.  She  was  in  an  excited  mood 
but  said  nothing  to  alarm  me.  She  even  laughed 
when  she  left  me ;  perhaps  to  put  me  off  my  guard, 
perhaps  because  she  was  no  longer  responsible." 

"Did  she  know  that  Mr.  Jeffrey  had  visited  you 
earlier  in  the  day  ?  Did  she  make  any  allusion  to  it, 
I  mean?" 

"None  at  all.  She  shrugged  her  shoulders  when 
I  asked  if  she  was  well,  and  anticipated  all  further 
questions  by  running  from  the  room.  She  was  al- 
ways capricious  in  her  ways  and  never  more  so 
than  at  that  moment.  Would  to  God  that  it  had 
been  different !  Would  to  God  that  she  had  shown 
herself  to  be  a  suffering  woman !  Then  I  might 
have  reached  her  heart  and  this  tragedy  would 
have  been  averted." 


216  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

The  coroner  favored  the  witness  with  a  look  of  re- 
spect, perhaps  because  his  next  question  must  nec- 
essarily be  cruel. 

"Is  that  all  you  have  to  say  concerning  this  im- 
portant visit,  the  last  you  held  with  your  sister  be- 
fore her  death?" 

"No,  sir,  there  is  something  else,  something 
which  I  should  like  to  relate  to  this  jury.  When  she 
came  into  my  room,  she  held  in  her  hand  a  white 
ribbon;  that  is,  she  held  the  two  ends  of  a  long 
satin  ribbon  which  seemed  to  come  from  her  pocket. 
Handing  those  two  ends  to  me,  she  asked  me  to  tie 
them  about  her  wrist.  'A  knot  under  and  a  bow  on 
top,'  she  said,  'so  that  it  can  not  slip  off.'  As  this 
was  something  I  had  often  been  called  on  to  do 
for  her,  I  showed  no  hesitation  in  complying  with 
her  request.  Indeed,  I  felt  none.  I  thought  it  was 
her  fan  or  her  bouquet .  she  held  concealed  in  the 
folds  of  her  dress,  but  it  proved  to  be — Gentlemen, 
you  know  what.  I  pray  that  you  will  not  oblige 
me  t6  mention  it." 

It  was  such  a  stroke  as  no  lawyer  would  have 
advised  her  to  make, — I  heard  afterward  that  she 
had  refused  the  offices  of  a  dozen  lawyers  who  had 
proffered  her  their  services.  But  uttered  as  it 
was  with  a  noble  air  and  a  certain  dignified  seren- 
ity, it  had  a  great  effect  upon  those  about  her  and 


WHITE  BOW  AND  PINK  217 

turned  in  a  moment  the  wavering  tide  of  favor  in 
her  direction. 

The  coroner,  who  doubtless  was  perfectly  ac- 
quainted with  the  explanation  with  which  she  had 
provided  herself,  but  who  perhaps  did  not  look  for 
it  to  antedate  his  attack,  bowed  in  quiet  acknowl- 
edgment of  her  request  and  then  immediately  pro- 
ceeded to  ignore  it. 

"I  should  be  glad  to  spare  you,"  said  he,  "but  I 
do  not  find  it  possible.  You  knew  that  Mr.  Jeffrey 
had  a  pistol?" 

"I  did." 

"That  it  was  kept  in  their  apartment?" 

"Yes." 

"In  the  upper  drawer  of  a  certain  bureau?" 

"Yes." 

"Now,  Miss  Tuttle,  will  you  tell  us  why  you  went 
to  that  drawer — if  you  did  go  to  that  drawer — im- 
mediately after  Mrs.  Jeffrey  left  the  house?" 

She  had  probably  felt  this  question  coming,  not 
only  since  the  coroner  began  to  speak  but  ever  since 
the  evidence  elicited  from  Loretta  proved  that  her 
visit  to  this  drawer  had  been  secretly  observed.  Yet 
she  had  no  answer  ready. 

"I  did  not  go  for  the  pistol,"  she  finally  de- 
clared. But  she  did  not  say  what  she  had  gone  for, 
and  the  coroner  did  not  press  her. 


218  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

Again  the  tide  swung  back. 

She  seemed  to  feel  the  change  but  did  not  show 
it  in  the  way  naturally  looked  for.  Instead  of 
growing  perturbed  or  openly  depressed  she  bloomed 
into  greater  beauty  and  confronted  with  steadier 
eye,  not  us,  but  the  men  she  instinctively  faced  as 
the  tide  of  her  fortunes  began  to  lower.  Did  the 
coroner  perceive  this  and  recognize  at  last  both 
the  measure  of  her  attractions  and  the  power  they 
were  likely  to  carry  with  them?  Perhaps,  for  his 
voice  took  an  acrid  note  as  he  declared : 

"You  had  another  errand  in  that  room  ?" 

She  let  her  head  droop  just  a  trifle. 

"Alas !"  she  murmured. 

"You  went  to  the  book-shelves  and  took  out  a 
book  with  a  peculiar  cover,  a  cover  which  Mr. 
Jeffrey  has  already  recognized  as  that  of  the  book 
in  which  he  found  a  certain  note." 

"You  have  said  it,"  she  faltered. 

"Did  you  take  such  a  book  out?" 

"I  did." 

"For  what  purpose,  Miss  Tuttle?" 

She  had  meant  to  answer  quickly.  But  some 
consideration  made  her  hesitate  and  the  words  were 
long  in  coming ;  when  she  did  speak,  it  was  to  say : 

"My  sister  asked  another  favor  of  me  after  I  had 
tied  the  ribbon.  Pausing  in  her  passage  to  the 
door,  she  informed  me  in  a  tone  quite  in  keeping 


WHITE  BOW  AND  PINK  219 

with  her  whole  manner,  that  she  had  left  a  note  for 
her  husband  in  the  book  they  were  reading  to- 
gether. Her  reason  for  doing  this,  she  said,  was  the 
very  natural  one  of  wishing  him  to  come  upon  it  by 
chance,  but  as  she  had  placed  it  in  the  front  of  the 
book  instead  of  in  the  back  where  they  were  read- 
ing, she  was  afraid  that  he  would  fail  to  find  it. 
Would  I  be  so  good  as  to  take  it  out  for  her  and  in- 
sert it  again  somewhere  near  the  end?  She  was  in 
a  hurry  or  she  would  return  and  do  it  herself.  As 
she  and  Mr.  Jeffrey  had  parted  in  anger,  I  hailed 
with  joy  this  evidence  of  her  desire  for  a  reconcilia- 
tion, and  it  was  in  obedience  to  her  request,  the  sin- 
gularity of  which  did  not  strike  me  as  forcibly  then 
as  now,  that  I  went  to  the  shelves  in  her  room  and 
took  down  the  book." 

"And  did  you  find  the  note  where  she  said  ?" 

"Yes,  and  put  it  in  toward  the  end  of  the  story." 

"Nothing  more?    Did  you  read  the  note?" 

"It  was  folded,"  was  Miss  Tuttle's  quiet  answer. 

Certainly  this  woman  was  a  thoroughbred  or  else 

she  was  an  adept  in  deception  such  as  few  of  us  had 

ever  encountered.     The  gentleness  of  her  manner, 

the  easy  tone,  the  quiet  eyes,  eyes  in  whose  dark 

depths  great  passions  were  visible,  but  passions  that 

were  under  the  control  of  an  equally  forcible  will, 

made  her  a  puzzle  to  all  men's  minds ;  but  it  was  a 

fascinating  puzzle  that  awoke  a  species  of  awe  in 


220  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

those  who  attempted  to  understand  her.  To  all 
appearances  she  was  the  unlikeliest  woman  possible 
to  cherish  criminal  intents,  yet  her  answers  were 
rather  clever  than  convincing,  unless  you  allowed 
yourself  to  be  swayed  by  the  look  of  her  beautiful 
face  or  the  music  of  her  rich,  sad  voice. 

"You  did  not  remain  before  these  book-shelves 
long?"  observed  the  coroner. 

"You  have  a  witness  who  knows  more  about  that 
than  I  do,"  she  suggested;  and  doubtless  aware  of 
the  temerity  of  this  reply,  waited  with  unmoved 
countenance,  but  with  a  visibly  bounding  breast,  for 
what  would  doubtless  prove  a  fresh  attack. 

It  was  a  violent  one  and  of  a  character  she  was 
least  fitted  to  meet.  Taking  up  the  box  I  have  so 
often  mentioned,  the  coroner  drew  away  the  ribbon 
lying  on  top  and  disclosed  the  pistol.  In  a  moment 
her  hands  were  over  her  ears. 

"Why  do  you  do  that?"  he  asked.  "Did  you 
think  I  was  going  to  discharge  it  ?" 

She  smiled  pitifully  as  she  let  her  hands  fall 
again. 

"I  have  a  dread  of  firearms,"  she  explained.  "I 
always  have  had.  Now  they  are  simply  terrible  to 
me,  and  this  one — " 

"I  understand,"  said  the  coroner,  with  a  slight 
glance  in  the  direction  of  Durbin.  They  had  evi- 
dently planned  this  test  together  on  the  strength 


WHITE  BOW  AND  PINK  221 

of  an  idea  suggested  to  Durbin  by  her  former 
action  when  the  memory  of  this  shot  was  recalled 
to  her. 

"Your  horror  seems  to  lie  in  the  direction  of  the 
noise  they  make,"  continued  her  inexorable  inter- 
locutor. "One  would  say  you  had  heard  this  pistol 
discharged." 

Instantly  a  complete  breaking-up  of  her  hitherto 
well  maintained  composure  altered  her  whole  aspect 
and  she  vehemently  cried : 

"I  did,  I  did.  I  was  on  Waverley  Avenue  that 
night,  and  I  heard  the  shot  which  in  all  probability 
ended  my  sister's  life.  I  walked  farther  than  I  in- 
tended; I  strolled  into  the  street  which  had  such 
bitter  memories  for  us  and  I  heard — No,  I  was  not 
in  search  of  my  sister.  I  had  not  associated  my 
sister's  going  out  with  any  intention  of  visiting 
this  house;  I  was  merely  troubled  in  mind  and 
anxious  and — and — " 

She  had  overrated  her  strength  or  her  clever- 
ness. She  found  herself  unable  to  finish  the  sen- 
tence, and  so  did  not  try.  She  had  been  led  by  the 
impulse  of  the  moment  farther  than  she  had  in- 
tended, and,  aghast  at  her  own  imprudence,  paused 
with  her  first  perceptible  loss  of  courage  before  the 
yawning  gulf  opening  before  her. 

I  felt  myself  seized  by  a  very  uncomfortable 
dread  lest  her  concealments  and  unfinished  sen- 


222  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

tences  hid  a  guiltier  knowledge  of  this  crime  than  I 
was  yet  ready  to  admit. 

The  coroner,  who  is  an  older  man  than  myself, 
betrayed  a  certain  satisfaction  but  no  dread.  Never 
did  the  unction  which  underlies  his  sharpest 
speeches  show  more  plainly  than  when  he  quietly 
remarked : 

"And  so  under  a  similar  impulse  you,  as  well  as 
Mr.  Jeffrey,  ehose  this  uncanny  place  to  ramble  in. 
To  all  appearance  that  old  hearth  acted  much  more 
like  a  lodestone  upon  members  of  your  family  than 
you  were  willing  at  one  time  to  acknowledge." 

This  reference  to  words  she  had  herself  been 
heard  to  use  seemed  to  overwhelm  her.  Her  calm- 
ness fled  and  she  cast  a  fleeting  look  of  anguish  at 
Mr.  Jeffrey.  But  his  face  was  turned  from  sight, 
and,  meeting  with  no  help  there,  or  anywhere,  in- 
deed, save  in  her  own  powerful  nature,  she  recov- 
ered as  best  she  could  the  ground  she  had  lost  and, 
with  a  trembling  question  of  her  own,  attempted  to 
put  the  coroner  in  fault  and  reestablish  herself. 

"You  say  'ramble  through.'  Do  you  for  a  mo- 
ment think  that  I  entered  that  old  house?" 

"Miss  Tuttle,"  was  the  grave,  almost  sad  reply, 
"did  you  not  know  that  in  some  earth,  dropped 
from  a  flower-pot  overturned  at  the  time  when  a 
hundred  guests  flew  in  terror  from  this  house,  there 
is  to  be  seen  the  mark  of  a  footstep, — a  footstep 


WHITE  BOW  AND  PINK  223 

which  you  are  at  liberty  to  measure  with  your 
own?" 

"Ah !"  she  murmured,  her  hands  going  up  to  her 
face. 

But  in  another  moment  she  had  dropped  them 
and  looked  directly  at  the  coroner. 

"I  walked  there — I  never  said  that  I  did  not 
walk  there — when  I  went  later  to  see  my  sister  and 
in  sight  of  a  number  of  detectives  passed  straight 
through  the  halls  and  into  the  library." 

"And  that  this  footstep,"  inexorably  proceeded 
the  coroner,  "is  not  in  a  line  with  the  main  thor- 
oughfare extending  from  the  front  to  the  back  of 
the  house,  but  turned  inwards  toward  the  wall  as  if 
she  who  made  it  had  stopped  to  lean  her  head 
against  the  partition?" 

Miss  Tuttle's  head  drooped.  Probably  she  real- 
ized at  this  moment,  if  not  before,  that  the  coroner 
and  jury  had  ample  excuse  for  mistrusting  one  who 
had  been  so  unmistakably  caught  in  a  prevarica- 
tion; possibly  her  regret  carried  her  far  enough 
to  wish  she  had  not  disdained  all  legal  ad- 
vice from  those  who  had  so  earnestly  offered  it. 
But  though  she  showed  alike  her  shame  and  her 
disheartenment,  she  did  not  give  up  the  struggle. 

"If  I  went  into  the  house,"  she  said,  "it  was  not 
to  enter  that  room.  I  had  too  great  a  dread  of  it. 
If  I  rested  my  head  against  the  wall  it  was  in  terror 


224  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

of  that  shot.  It  came  so  suddenly  and  was  so 
frightful,  so  much  more  frightful  than  anything 
you  can  conceive." 

"Then  you  did  enter  the  house?" 

"I  did." 

"And  it  was  while  you  were  inside,  instead  of  out- 
side, that  you  heard  the  shot?" 

"I  must  admit  that,  too.  I  was  at  the  library 
door." 

"You  acknowledge  that?" 

"I  do." 

"But  you  did  not  enter  the  library?" 

"No,  not  then ;  not  till  I  was  taken  back  by  the 
officer  who  told  me  of  my  sister's  death." 

"We  are  glad  to  hear  this  precise  statement  from 
you.  It  encourages  me  to  ask  again  the  nature  of 
the  freak  which  took  you  into  this  house.  You  say 
that  it  was  not  from  any  dread  on  your  sister's  ac- 
count? What,  then,  was  it  ?  No  evasive  answer  will 
satisfy  us,  Miss  Tuttle." 

She  realized  this  as  no  one  else  could. 

Mr.  Jeffrey's  reason  for  his  visit  there  could  not 
be  her  reason,  yet  what  other  had  she  to  give  ?  Ap- 
parently none. 

"I  can  not  answer,"  she  said. 

And  the  deep  sigh  which  swept  through  the  room 
was  but  an  echo  of  the  despair  with  which  she 
saw  herself  brought  to  this  point. 

"We  will  not  oblige  you  to,"  said  the  coroner 


WHITE  BOW  AND  PINK  225 

with  apparent  consideration.  But  to  those  who 
knew  the  law  against  forcing  a  witness  to  incrim- 
inate himself,  this  was  far  from  an  encouraging 
concession. 

"However,"  he  now  went  on,  with  suddenly  as- 
sumed severity,  "you  may  answer  this.  Was  the 
house  dark  or  light  when  you  entered  it?  And  how 
did  you  get  in?" 

"The  house  was  dark,  and  I  got  in  through  the 
front  door,  which  I  found  ajar." 

"You  are  more  courageous  than  most  women !  I 
fear  there  are  few  of  your  sex  who  could  be  induced 
to  enter  it  in  broad  daylight  and  under  every  suit- 
able protection." 

She  raised  her  figure  proudly. 

"Miss  Tuttle,  you  have  heard  Chloe  say  that  you 
were  in  the  kitchen  of  Mr.  Jeffrey's  house  when  the 
grocer  boy  delivered  the  candles  which  had  been  left 
by  your  brother-in-law  on  the  counter  of  the  store 
where  he  bought  them.  Is  this  true?" 

"Yes,  sir,  it  is  true." 

"Did  you  see  those  candles?" 

"No,  sir." 

"You  did  not  see  them?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Yet  you  went  over  to  the  table?" 

"Yes,  sir,  but  I  did  not  meddle  with  the  pack- 
ages. I  had  really  no  business  with  them." 

The  coroner,  surveying  her  sadly,  went  quickly 


226  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

on  as  if  anxious  to  terminate  this  painful  examina- 
tion. 

"You  have  not  told  us  what  you  did  when  you 
heard  that  pistol-shot." 

"I  ran  away  as  soon  as  I  could  move;  I  ran 
madly  from  the  house." 

"Where?" 

"Home." 

"But  it  was  half -past  ten  when  you  got  home." 

"Was  it?" 

"It  was  half-past  ten  when  the  man  came  to  tell 
you  of  your  sister's  death." 

"It  may  have  been." 

"Your  sister  is  supposed  to  have  died  in  a  few 
minutes.  Where  were  you  in  the  interim?" 

"God  knows.    I  do  not." 

A  wild  look  was  creeping  into  her  face,  and  her 
figure  was  swaying.  But  she  soon  steadied  it.  I 
have  never  seen  a  more  admirable  presence  main- 
tained in  the  face  of  a  dreadful  humiliation. 

"Perhaps  I  can  help  you,"  rejoined  the  coroner, 
not  unkindly.  "Were  you  not  in  the  Congressional 
Library  looking  up  at  the  lunettes  and  gorgeously 
painted  walls?" 

"I  ?"  Her  eyes  opened  wide  in  wondering  doubt. 
"If  I  was,  I  did  not  know  it.  I  have  no  remem- 
brance of  it." 

She    seemed    to    lose    sight     of    her    present 


WHITE  BOW  AND  PINK  227 

position,  the  cloud  under  which  she  rested,  and  even 
the  construction  which  might  be  put  upon  such  a 
forgetfulness  at  a  time  confessedly  prior  to  her 
knowledge  of  the  purpose  and  effect  of  the  shot 
from  which  she  had  so  incontinently  fled. 

"Your  condition  of  mind  and  that  of  Mr. 
Jeffrey  seem  to  have  been  strangely  alike,"  re- 
marked the  coroner. 

"No,  no !"  she  protested. 

"Arguing  a  like  source." 

"No,  no,"  she  cried  again,  this  time  with  posi- 
tive agony.  Then  with  an  effort  which  awakened  re- 
spect for  her  powers  of  mind,  if  for  nothing  else, 
she  desperately  added:  "I  can  not  say  what  was  in 
his  heart  that  night,  but  I  know  what  was  in  mine : 
dread  of  that  old  house,  to  which  I  had  been  drawn 
in  spite  of  myself,  possibly  by  the  force  of  the 
tragedy  going  on  inside  it,  culminating  in  a  delir- 
ium of  terror,  which  sent  me  flying  in  an  opposite 
direction  from  my  home  and  into  places  I  had  been 
accustomed  to  visit  when  my  heart  was  light  and 
untroubled." 

The  coroner  glanced  at  the  jury,  who  uncon- 
sciously shook  their  heads.  He  shook  his,  too,  as  he 
returned  to  the  charge. 

"Another  question,  Miss  Tuttle.  When  you 
heard  a  pistol-shot  sounding  from  the  depths  of 
that  dark  library,  what  did  you  think  it  meant ?" 


228  THE   FILIGREE    BALL 

She  put  her  hands  over  her  ears — it  seemed  as  if 
she  could  not  prevent  this  instinctive  expression  of 
recoil  at  the  mention  of  the  death-dealing  weapon 
— and  in  very  low  tones  replied : 

"Something  dreadful;  something  superstitious. 
It  was  night,  you  remember,  and  at  night  one  has 
such  horrible  thoughts." 

"Yet  an  hour  or  two  later  you  declared  that 
the  hearth  was  no  lodestone.  You  forgot  its  hor- 
rors and  your  superstition  upon  returning  to  your 
own  house." 

"It  might  be,"  she  murmured;  "but  if  so,  they 
soon  returned.  I  had  reason  for  my  horror,  if  not 
for  my  superstition,  as  the  event  showed." 

The  coroner  did  not  attempt  to  controvert  this. 
He  was  about  to  launch  a  final  inquiry. 

"Miss  Tuttle,  upon  the  return  of  yourself  and 
Mr.  Jeffrey  to  your  home  after  your  final  visit  to 
the  Moore  house,  did  you  have  any  interview  that 
was  without  witnesses?" 

"No." 

"Did  you  exchange  any  words?" 

"I  think  we  did  exchange  some  words;  it  would 
be  only  natural." 

"Are  you  willing  to  state  what  words  ?" 

She  looked  dazed  and  appeared  to  search  her 
memory. 

"I  don't  think  I  can,"  she  objected. 


WHITE  BOW  AND  PINK  229 

"But  something  was  said  by  you  and  some  an- 
swer was  made  by  him  ?" 

"I  believe  so." 

"Can  not  you  say  definitely?" 

"We  did  speak." 

"In  English?" 

"No,  in  French." 

"Can  not  you  translate  that  French  for  us?" 

"Pardon  me,  sir;  it  was  so  long  ago  my  memory 
fails  me." 

"Is  it  any  better  for  the  second  and  longer  inter- 
view between  you  the  next  day?" 

"No— sir." 

"You  can  not  give  us  any  phrase  or  word  that 
was  uttered  there?" 

"No." 

"Is  this  your  final  reply  on  this  subject?" 

"It  is." 

She  never  had  been  subjected  to  an  interrogation 
like  this  before.  It  made  her  proud  soul  quiver  in 
revolt,  notwithstanding  the  patience  with  which  she 
had  fortified  herself.  With  red  cheeks  and  glisten- 
ing eyes  she  surveyed  the  man  who  had  made  her 
suffer  so,  and  instantly  every  other  man  there  suf- 
fered with  her;  excepting  possibly  Durbin,  whose 
heart  was  never  his  strong  point.  But  our  hearts 
were  moved,  our  reasons  were  not  convinced,  as  was 
presently  shown,  when,  with  a  bow  of  dismissal,  the 


230  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

coroner  released  her,  and  she  passed  back  to  her 
seat. 

Simultaneously  with  her  withdrawal  the  gleam 
of  sensibility  left  the  faces  of  the  jury,  and  the 
dark  and  brooding  look  which  had  marked  their 
countenances  from  the  beginning  returned,  and  re- 
turned to  stay. 

What  would  their  verdict  be?  There  were  pres- 
ent two  persons  who  affected  to  believe  that  it  would 
be  one  of  suicide  occasioned  by  dementia.  These 
were  Miss  Tuttle  and  Mr.  Jeffrey,  who,  now  that 
the  critical  period  had  come,  straightened  them- 
selves boldly  in  their  seats  and  met  the  glances  con- 
centrated upon  them  with  dignity,  if  not  with  the 
assurance  of  complete  innocence.  But  from  the 
carefulness  with  which  they  avoided  each  other's 
eyes  and  the  almost  identical  expression  mirrored 
upon  both  faces,  it  was  visible  to  all  that  they  re- 
garded their  cause  as  a  common  one,  and  that  the 
link  which  they  denied,  as  having  existed  between 
them  prior  to  Mrs.  Jeffrey's  death,  had  in  some 
way  been  supplied  by  that  very  tragedy;  so  that 
they  now  unwittingly  looked  with  the  same  eyes, 
breathed  with  the  same  breath,  and  showed  them- 
selves responsive  to  the  same  fluctuations  of  hope 
and  fear. 

The  celerity  with  which  that  jury  arrived  at  its 
verdict  was  a  shock  to  us  all.  It  had  been  a  quiet 


WHITE  BOW  AND  PINK  231 

body,  offering  but  little  assistance  to  the  coroner 
in  his  questioning ;  but  when  it  fell  to  these  men  to 
act,  the  precision  with  which  they  did  so  was  aston- 
ishing. In  a  half-hour  they  returned  from  the 
room  into  which  they  had  adjourned,  and  the  fore- 
man gave  warning  that  he  was  prepared  to  render 
a  verdict. 

Mr.  Jeffrey  and  Miss  Tuttle  both  clenched  their 
hands ;  then  Miss  Tuttle  pulled  down  her  veil. 

"We  find,"  said  the  solemn  foreman,  "that  Veron- 
ica Moore  Jeffrey,  who  on  the  night  of  May  elev- 
enth was  discovered  lying  dead  on  the  floor  of  her 
own  unoccupied  house  in  Waverley  Avenue,  came  to 
her  death  by  means  of  a  bullet,  shot  from  a  pistol 
connected  to  her  wrist  by  a  length  of  white  satin 
ribbon. 

"That  the  first  conclusion  of  suicide  is  not  fully 
sustained  by  the  facts; 

"And  that  attempt  should  be  made  to  identify 
the  hand  that  fired  this  pistol." 

It  was  as  near  an  accusation  of  Miss  Tuttle  as 
was  possible  without  mentioning  her  name.  A 
groan  passed  through  the  assemblage,  and  Mr. 
Jeffrey,  bounding  to  his  feet,  showed  an  inclination 
to  shout  aloud  in  his  violent  indignation.  But  Miss 
Tuttle,  turning  toward  him,  lifted  her  hand  with  a 
commanding  gesture  and  held  it  so  till  he  sat  down 
again. 


232  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

It  was  both  a  majestic  and  an  utterly  incompre- 
hensible movement  on  her  part,  giving  to  the  close 
of  these  remarkable  proceedings  a  dramatic  climax 
which  set  all  hearts  beating  and,  I  am  bound  to  say, 
all  tongues  wagging  till  the  room  cleared. 


,XV1 

AN   EGOTIST  OF    THE    FIRST   WATEB 

Had  the  control  of  affairs  been  mine  at  this  mo- 
ment I  am  quite  positive  that  I  should  have  found 
it  difficult  to  deny  these  two  the  short  interview 
which  they  appeared  to  crave  and  which  would  have 
been  to  them  such  an  undeniable  comfort.  But  a 
sterner  spirit  than  mine  was  in  charge,  and  the 
district  attorney,  into  whose  hands  the  affair  had 
now  fallen,  was  inexorable.  Miss  Tuttle  was  treated 
with  respect,  with  kindness,  even,  but  she  was  not 
allowed  any  communication  with  her  brother-in-law 
beyond  the  formal  "Good  afternoon"  incident  upon 
their  separation ;  while  he,  scorning  to  condemn  his 
lips  to  any  such  trite  commonplace,  said  nothing  ^t 
all,  only  looked  a  haggard  inquiry  which  called 
forth  from  her  the  most  exalted  look  of  patience 
and  encouraging  love  it  has  ever  been  my  good  for- 
tune to  witness.  Durbin  was  standing  near  and  saw 
this  look  as  plainly  as  I  did,  but  it  did  not  impose 
on  him,  he  said.  But  what  in  the  nature  of  human 
woe  could  impose  on  him?  Durbin  is  a  machine — a 
233 


234  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

very  reliable  and  useful  machine,  no  doubt,  yet 
when  all  is  said,  a  simple  contrivance  of  cogs  and 
wheels;  while  I — well,  I  hope  that  I  am  something 
more  than  that;  or  why  was  I  a  changed  man 
toward  her  from  the  moment  I  saw  the  smile  which 
marked  this  accused  woman's  good  by  to  Francis 
Jeffrey.  No  longer  believing  in  her  guilt,  I  went 
about  my  business  with  tumult  in  brain  and  heart, 
asking  in  my  remorse  for  an  opportunity  to  show 
her  some  small  courtesy  whereby  to  relieve  the  tor- 
ture I  felt  at  having  helped  the  coroner  in  the  in- 
quiries which  had  brought  about  what  looked  to  me 
now  like  a  cruel  and  unwarranted  result. 

That  it  should  be  given  to  Durbin  to  hold  such 
surveillance  over  her  as  her  doubtful  position  de- 
manded added  greatly  to  my  discomfort.  But  I 
was  enabled  to  keep  my  lips  firmly  shut  over  any 
expression  of  secret  jealousy  or  displeasure;  and 
this  was  fortunate,  as  otherwise  I  might  have  failed 
to  obtain  the  chance  of  aiding  her  later  on,  in  other 
and  deeper  matters. 

Meanwhile,  and  before  any  of  us  had  left  this 
room,  one  fact  had  become  apparent.  Mr.  Jeffrey 
was  not  going  to  volunteer  any  fresh  statement  in 
face  of  the  distinct  disapproval  of  his  sister-in-law. 
As  his  eye  fell  upon  the  district  attorney,  who  hr.J 
lingered  near,  possibly  in  the  hope  of  getting  some- 
thing more  from  this  depressed  and  almost  insensi- 


EGOTIST  OF  THE  FIRST  WATER     235 

ble  man,  he  made  one  remark,  but  it  was  an  auto- 
matic one,  calculated  to  produce  but  little  effect  on 
the  discriminating  ears  of  this  experienced  official. 

"I  do  not  believe  that  my  wife  was  murdered." 
This  was  what  he  said.     "It  was  a  wicked  verdict. 
My  wife  killed  herself.  Wasn't  the  pistol  found  tied    , 
to  her?" 

Either  from  preoccupation  or  a  dazed  condition 
of  mind,  he  seemed  to  forget  that  Miss  Tut- 
tle  had  owned  to  tying  on  this  pistol;  and  that 
nothing  but  her  word  went  to  prove  that  this  was 
done  before  and  no.t  after  the  shot  had  been  deliv- 
ered in  the  Moore  house  library.  I  thought  I  un- 
derstood him  and  was  certain  that  I  sympathized 
with  his  condition;  but  in  the  ears  of  those  less 
amiably  disposed  toward  him,  his  statements  had 
lost  force  and  the  denial  went  for  little. 

Meanwhile  a  fact  which  all  had  noted  and  com- 
mented on  had  recurred  to  my  mind  and  caused 
me  to  ask  a  brother  officer  who  was  walking  out  be- 
side me  what  he  thought  of  Mr.  Moore's  absence 
from  an  inquiry  presumably  of  such  importance  to 
all  members  of  this  family. 

The  fellow  laughed  and  said : 

"Old  Dave'  has  lost  none  of  his  peculiarities  in 
walking  into  his  fortune.  This  is  his  day  at  the 
cemetery.  Didn't  you  know  that?  He  will  let 
nothing  on  earth  get  in  the  way  of  his  pilgrimage  to 


236  THE   FILIGREE    BALL 

that  spot  on  the  twenty-third  of  May,  much  less  so 
trivial  an  occurrence  as  an  inquest  over  the  remains 
of  his  nearest  relative." 

I  felt  my  gorge  rise ;  then  a  thought  struck  me 
and  I  asked  how  long  the  old  gentleman  kept  up 
his  watch. 

"From  sunrise  to  sundown,  the  boys  say.  I  never 
saw  him  there  myself.  My  beat  lies  in  an  opposite 
direction." 

I  left  him  and  started  for  Rock  Creek  Cemetery. 
There  were  two  good  hours  yet  before  sundown 
and  I  resolved  to  come  upon  Uncle  David  at  his 
post. 

It  took  just  one  hour  and  a  quarter  to  get  there 
by  the  most  direct  route  I  could  take.  Five  minutes 
more  to  penetrate  the  grounds  to  where  a  superb 
vehicle  stood,  drawn  by  two  of  the  finest  horses  I 
had  seen  in  Washington  for  many  a  long  day.  As  I 
was  making  my  way  around  this  equipage  I  came 
upon  a  plot  in  a  condition  of  upheaval  preparatory 
to  new  sodding  and  the  planting  of  several  choice 
shrubs.  In  the  midst  of  the  sand  thus  exposed  a 
single  head-stone  rose.  On  his  knees  beside  this 
simple  monument  I  saw  the  figure  of  Uncle  David, 
dressed  in  his  finest  clothes  and  showing  in  his  odd- 
ly contorted  face  the  satisfaction  of  great  prosper- 
ity, battling  with  the  dissatisfaction  of  knowing 
that  one  he  had  so  loved  had  not  lived  to  share  his 


EGOTIST  OF  THE  FIRST  WATER    &M 

elevation.  He  was  rubbing  away  the  mold  from  the 
name  which,  by  his  own  confession,  was  the  only  one 
to  which  his  memory  clung  in  sympathy  or  endear- 
ment. At  his  feet  lay  an  open  basket,  in  which  I  de- 
tected the  remains  of  what  must  have  been  a  rather 
sumptuous  cold  repast.  To  all  appearance  he  had 
foregone  none  of  his  ancient  customs;  only  those 
customs  had  taken  on  elegance  with  his  rise  in  for- 
tune. The  carriage  and  the  horses,  and  most  of  all, 
the  imperturbable  driver,  seemed  to  awaken  some 
awe  in  the  boys.  They  were  still  in  evidence,  but 
they  hung  back  sheepishly  and  eyed  the  basket  of 
neglected  food  as  if  they  hoped  he  would  forget  to 
take  it  away.  Meanwhile  the  clattering  of  chains 
against  the  harness,  the  pawing  of  the  horses  and 
the  low  exclamations  of  the  driver  caused  me  the 
queerest  feelings.  Advancing  quite  unceremoni- 
ously upon  the  watcher  by  the  grave,  I  remarked 
nloud : 

"The  setting  sun  will  soon  release  you,  Mr. 
Moore.  Are  you  going  immediately  into  town?" 

He  paused  in  his  rubbing,  which  was  being  done 
with  a  very  tender  hand,  and  as  if  he  really  loved 
the  name  he  was  endeavoring  to  bring  into  plainer 
view.  Scowling  a  little,  he  turned  and  met  me 
point-blank  with  a  look  which  had  a  good  deal  of 
inquiry  in  it. 

"I  am  not  usually   interrupted  here,"  he  em- 


238  THE   FILIGREE    BALL 

phasized;  "except  by  the  boys,"  he  added  more 
mildly.  "They  sometimes  approach  too  closely, 
but  I  am  used  to  the  imps  and  scarcely  notice  them. 
Ah!  there  are  some  of  my  old  friends  now!  Well, 
it  is  time  they  knew  that  a  change  has  taken  place 
in  my  fortunes.  Hi,  there!  Hands  up  and  catch 
this,  and  this,  and  this!"  he  shouted.  "But  keep 
quiet  about  it  or  next  year  you  will  get  pennies 
again." 

And  flinging  quarters  right  and  left,  he  smiled 
in  such  a  pompous,  self-satisfied  way  at  the  hurrah 
and  scramble  which  ensued,  that  it  was  well  worth 
my  journey  there  just  to  see  this  exhibition  of  com- 
bined vanity  and  good  humor. 

"Now  go!"  he  vociferated;  and  the  urchins, 
black  and  white,  flew  away,  flinging  up  their  heels 
in  delight  and  shouting:  "Bully  for  you,  Uncle 
David !  We'll  come  again  next  year,  not  for  twen- 
ty-fives but  -fifties:' 

"I  will  make  it  dollars  if  I  only  live  so  long,"  he 
muttered.  And  deigning  now  to  remember  the  ques- 
tion I  had  put  to  him,  he  grandly  remarked: 

"I  am  going  straight  into  town.  Can  I  do  any- 
thing for  you?" 

"Nothing.  I  thought  you  might  like  to  kno\* 
what  awaits  you  there.  The  city  is  greatly  stirred 
up.  The  coroner's  jury  in  the  Jeffrey-Moore  case 
has  just  brought  in  a  yerdict  to  the  effect  that 


EGOTIST  OF  THE  FIRST  WATER     239 

suicide  has  not  been  proved.  Naturally,  this  is 
equivalent  to  one  of  murder." 

"Ah!"  he  ejaculated,  slightly  taken  aback  for 
one  so  invariably,  impassive. 

"And  to  whom  is  the  guilt  of  this  crime 
ascribed  ?"  he  presently  ventured. 

"There  was  mention  of  no  name ;  but  the  oppro- 
brium naturally  falls  on  Miss  Tuttle." 

"Miss  Tuttle?  Ah!" 

"Since  Mr.  Jeffrey  is  proved  to  have  been  too  far 
away  at  the  time  to  have  fired  that  shot,  while 
she—" 

"I  am  following  you — " 

"Was  in  the  very  house — at  the  door  of  the 
library  in  fact — and  heard  the  pistol  discharged,  if 
she  did  not  discharge  it  herself — which  some  be- 
lieve, notably  the  district  attorney.  You  should 
have  been  there,  Mr.  Moore." 

He  looked  surprised  at  this  suggestion. 

"I  never  am  anywhere  but  here  on  the  twenty- 
third  of  May,"  he  declared. 

"Miss  Tuttle  needed  some  adviser." 

"Ah,  probably." 

"You  would  have  been  a  good  one." 

"And  a  welcome  one,  eh?" 

I  hardly  thought  he  would  have  been  a  welcome 
one,  but  I  did  not  admit  the  fact.  Nevertheless  he 
seized  on  the  advantage  he  evidently  thought  he 


240  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

had  gained  and  added,  mildly  enough,  or  rather 
without  any  display  of  feeling: 

"Miss  Tuttle  likes  me  even  less  than  Veronica 
did.  I  do  not  think  she  would  have  accepted,  cer- 
tainly she  would  not  have  desired,  my  presence  in 
her  counsels.  But  of  one  thing  I  wish  her  to  be 
assured,  her  and  the  world  in  general.  Any  money 
she  may  need  at  this — at  this  unhappy  crisis  in  her 
life,  she  will  find  amply  supplied.  She  has  no 
claims  on  me,  but  that  makes  little  difference  where 
the  family  honor  is  concerned.  Her  mother's  hus- 
band was  my  brother — the  girl  shall  have  all  she 
needs.  I  will  write  her  so." 

He  was  moving  toward  his  carriage. 

"Fine  turnout?"  he  interrogatively  remarked. 

I  assented  with  all  the  surprise,— with  all  the 
wonder  even — which  his  sublime  egotism  seemed  to 
invite. 

"It  is  the  best  that  Downey  could  raise  in  the 
time  I  allotted  him.  When  I  really  finger  the 
money,  we  shall  see,  we  shall  see." 

His  foot  was  on  the  carriage-step.  He  looked  up 
at  the  west.  The  sun  was  almost  down  but  not 
quite.  "Have  you  any  special  business  with  me?" 
he  asked,  lingering  with  what  I  thought  a  surpris- 
ing display  of  conscientiousness  till  the  last  ray  of 
direct  sunlight  had  disappeared. 


EGOTIST  OF  THE  FIRST  WATER     241 

I  glanced  up  at  the  coachman  sitting  on  his  box 
«w  rigid  as  any  stone. 

"You  may  speak,"  said  he ;  "Caesar  neither  hears 
nor  sees  anything  but  his  horses  when  he  drives  me." 

The  black  did  not  wink.  He  was  as  completely 
at  home  on  the  box  and  as  quiet  and  composed  in  his 
service  as  if  he  had  driven  this  man  for  years. 

"He  understands  his  duty,"  finished  the  master, 
but  with  no  outward  appearance  of  pride.  "What 
have  you  to  say  to  me?" 

I  hesitated  no  longer. 

"Miss  Tuttle  is  supposed  to  have  secretly  entered 
the  Moore  house  on  the  night  you  summoned  us. 
She  even  says  she  did.  I  know  that  you  have  sworn 
to  having  seen  no  one  go  into  that  house ;  but  not- 
withstanding this,  haven't  you  some  means  at  your 
disposal  for  proving  to  the  police  and  to  the  world 
at  large  that  she  never  fired  that  fatal  shot?  Pub- 
lic opinion  is  so  cruel.  She  will  be  ruined  whether 
innocent  or  guilty,  unless  it  can  be  very  plainly 
shown  that  she  did  not  enter  the  library  prior  to 
going  there  with  the  police." 

"And  how  can  you  suppose  me  to  be  in  a  posi- 
tion to  prove  that?  Say  that  I  had  sat  in  my  front 
window  all  that  evening,  and  watched  with  uninter- 
rupted assiduity  the  door  through  which  so  many 
are  said  to  have  passed  between  sunset  and  mid- 


242  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

night — something  which  I  did  not  do,  as  I  have 
plainly  stated  on  oath — how  could  you  have  ex- 
pected me  to  see  what  went  on  in  the  black  interior 
of  a  house  whose  exterior  is  barely  discernible  at 
night  across  the  street?" 

"Then  you  can  not  aid  her?"  I  asked. 

With  a  light  bound  he  leaped  into  the  carriage. 
As  he  took  his  seat  he  politely  remarked : 

"I  should  be  glad  to,  since,  though  not  a  Moore, 
she  is  near  enough  the  family  to  affect  its  honor. 
But  not  having  even  seen  her  enter  the  house  I  can 
not  testify  in  any  way  in  regard  to  her.  Home, 
Caesar,  and  drive  quickly.  I  do  not  thrive  under 
these  evening  damps." 

And  leaning  back,  with  an  inexpressible  air  of 
contentment  with  himself,  his  equipage  and  the 
prospect  of  an  indefinite  enjoyment  of  the  same, 
the  last  representative  of  the  great  Moore  family 
was  quietly  driven  away. 


XVII 


A    FRESH    START 


I  was  far  from  being  good  company  that  night. 
I  knew  this  without  being  told.  My  mind  was  too 
busy.  I  was  too  full  of  regrets  and  plans,  reason- 
ings and  counter  reasonings.  In  my  eyes  Miss  Tut- 
tle  had  suddenly  become  innocent,  consequently  a 
victim.  But  a  victim  to  what?  To  some  exagger- 
ated sense  of  duty?  Possibly;  but  to  what  duty? 
That  was  the  question,  to  answer  which  offhand  I 
would,  in  my  present  excitement,  have  been  ready 
to  sacrifice  a  month's  pay. 

For  I  was  moved,  not  only  by  the  admiration  and 
sympathy  which  all  men  must  feel  for  a  beautiful 
woman  caught  in  such  a  deadly  snare  of  circum- 
stantial evidence,  but  by  the  conviction  that  Dur- 
bin,  whose  present  sleek  complacency  was  more  of- 
fensive to  me  than  the  sneering  superiority  of  a 
week  ago,  believed  her  to  be  a  guilty  woman, 
and  as  such  his  rightful  prey.  This  alone  would 
have  influenced  me  to  take  the  opposite  view ;  for  we 
never  ran  along  together,  and  in  a  case  where  any 
243 


$44  THE   FILIGREE    BALL 

division  of  opinion  was  possible,  always  found  our- 
selves, consciously  or  unconsciously,  on  different 
sides.  Yet  I  did  not  really  dislike  Durbin,  who  is  a 
very  fine  fellow.  I  only  hated  his  success  and  the 
favor  which  rewarded  it. 

I  know  that  I  have  some  very  nasty  failings  and 
I  do  not  shrink  from  owning  them.  My  desire 
is  to  represent  myself  as  I  am,  and  I  must  admit 
that  it  was  not  entirely  owing  to  disinterested  mo- 
tives that  I  now  took  the  secret  stand  I  did  in  Miss 
Tuttle's  favor.  To  prove  her  innocent  whom  once 
I  considered  the  cause  of,  if  not  the  guilty  acces- 
sory to  her  sister's  murder,  now  became  my  dream 
by  night  and  my  occupation  by  day.  Though  I 
seemed  to  have  no  sympathizer  in  this  effort  and 
though  the  case  against  her  was  being  pushed 
very  openly  in  the  district  attorney's  office,  yet 
I  clung  to  my  convictions  with  an  almost  insensate 
persistence,  inwardly  declaring  her  the  victim  of 
circumstances,  and  hoping  against  hope  that  some 
clue  would  offer  itself  by  means  of  which  I  might 
yet  prove  her  so. 

But  where  was  I  to  seek  for  this  clue? 

Alas,  no  ready  answer  to  this  very  important 
query  was  forthcoming.  All  possible  evidence  in 
this  case  seemed  to  have  been  exhausted  save  such 
as  Mr.  Jeffrey  and  Miss  Tuttle  withheld.  And  so 
the  monstrous  accusation  stood,  and  before  it  all 


A  FRESH  START  245 

Washington — my  humble  self  included — stood  in  a 
daze  of  mingled  doubt  and  compassion,  hunting  for 
explanations  which  failed  to  appear  and  seeking  in 
vain  for  some  guiltier  party,  who  evermore  slipped 
from  under  our  hand. 

Had  Mr.  Jeffrey's  alibi  been  less  complete  he 
could  not  have  stood  up  against  the  suspicions 
which  now  ran  riot.  But  there  was  no  possibility 
of  shifting  the  actual  crime  back  to  him  after  the 
testimony  of  so  frank  and  trustworthy  a  man  as 
Tallman.  If  the  stopping  of  Mrs.  Jeffrey's  watch 
fixed  the  moment  of  her  death  as  accurately  as  was 
supposed, — and  I  never  heard  the  least  doubt 
thrown  out  in  this  regard, — he  could  not  by  any 
means  of  transit  then  known  in  Washington  have 
reached  Waverley  Avenue  in  time  to  fire  that  shot. 
The  gates  of  the  cemetery  were  closed  at  sundown ; 
sundown  took  place  that  night  at  one  minute  past 
seven,  and  the  distance  into  town  is  considerable. 
His  alibi  could  not  be  gainsaid.  So  his  name  failed 
to  be  publicly  broached  in  connection  with  the 
shooting,  though  his  influence  over  Miss  Tuttle 
could  not  be  forgotten,  suggesting  to  some  that  she 
had  acted  as  his  hand  in  the  deed  which  robbed  him 
of  an  undesirable  wife.  But  this  I  would  not  be- 
lieve. I  preferred  to  accept  the  statement  that  she 
had  stopped  short  of  the  library  door  in  her  sus- 
picious visit  tjiere,  and  that  the  ribbon-tying, 


246  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

which  went  for  so  much,  had  been  done  at  home. 
That  these  facts,  especially  the  latter,  called  for 
more  than  common  credulity,  I  was  quite  ready  to 
acknowledge ;  and  had  her  feeling  for  Francis  Jef- 
frey shown  less  unselfishness,  I  should  certainly 
have  joined  my  fellows  in  regarding  these  asser- 
tions as  very  lame  attempts  to  explain  what  could 
only  be  explained  by  a  confession  of  guilt. 

So  here  was  a  tangle  without  a  frayed  end 
to  pull  at,  unless  the  impervious  egotism  of 
Uncle  David  afforded  o'ne,  which  I  doubted. 
For  how  could  any  man  with  a  frightful  secret  in 
his  breast  show  that  unmixed  delight  in  his  new 
equipage  and  suddenly  acquired  position,  which 
had  so  plainly  beamed  from  that  gentleman's  calm 
eye  and  assured  bearing?  When  he  met  my  scru- 
tiny in  the  sacred  precincts  where  the  one  love  of 
his  heart  lay  buried,  he  did  so  without  a  quiver  or 
any  sign  of  inner  disturbance.  His  tone  to  Caesar 
as  he  drove  off  had  been  the  tone  of  a  man  who  can 
afford  to  speak  quietly  because  he  is  conscious  of 
being  so  undeniably  the  master;  and  when  his  foot 
rose  to  the  carriage  step  it  was  with  the  confidence 
of  one  who  had  been  kept  out  of  his  rights  for  most 
of  his  natural  life,  but  who  feels  in  his  present  en- 
joyment of  them  no  apprehension  of  a  change.  His 
whole  bearing  and  conversation  on  that  day  were,  as 
I  am  quite  ready  to  admit,  an  exhibition  of  prodig- 


A  FRESH  START  247 

ious  selfishness;  but  it  was  also  an  exhibition  of 
mental  poise  incompatible  with  a  consciousness  of 
having  acquired  his  fortune  by  any  means  which 
laid  him  open  to  the  possibility  of  losing  it.  Or  so 
I  judged. 

Finding  myself,  with  every  new  consideration 
of  the  tantalizing  subject,  deeper  and  deeper  in  the 
quagmire  of  doubt  and  uncertainty,  I  sought  en- 
lightenment by  making  a  memorandum  of  the 
special  points  which  must  have  influenced  the  jury 
in  their  verdict,  as  witness : 

1.  The  relief  shown  by  Mr.  Jeffrey  at  finding 
an  apparent  communication  from  his  wife  hinting 
at  suicide. 

2.  The  possibility,  disclosed  by  the  similarity 
between  the  sisters'  handwriting,  of  this  same  com- 
munication being  a  forgery-  substituted  for  the  one 
really  written  by  Mrs.  Jeffrey. 

3.  The  fact  that,  previous   to  Mr.   Jeffrey's 
handling  of  the  book  in  which  this  communication 
was  said  to  have  been  hidden,  it  had  been  seen  in 
Miss  Tuttle's  hands. 

4.  That  immediately  after  this  she  had  passed 
to  the  drawer  where  Mr.  Jeffrey's  pistol  was  kept. 

5.  That  while  this  pistol  had  not  been  observed 
in  her  hand,  there  was  as  yet  no  evidence  to  prove 
that  it  had  been  previously  taken  from  the  drawer, 
save  such  as  was  afforded  by  her  own  acknowledg- 


248  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

ment  that  she  had  tied  some  unknown  object,  pre- 
sumably the  pistol,  to  her  sister's  wrist  before  that 
sister  left  the  house. 

6.  That  if  this  was  so,  the  pistol  and  the  rib- 
bon connecting  it  with  Mrs.   Jeffrey's  wrist  had 
been   handled   again   before   the   former  was  dis- 
charged, and  by  fingers  which  had  first  touched 
dust — of  which  there  was  plenty  in  the  old  library. 

7.  That  Miss  Tuttle  had  admitted,  though  not 
till  after  much  prevarication  and  apparent  subter- 
fuge, that  she  had  extended  her  walk  on  that  fatal 
night  not  only  as  far  as  the  Moore  house,  but  that 
she  had  entered  it  and  penetrated  as  far  as  the 
library  door  at  the  very  moment  the  shot  was  fired 
within. 

8.  That  in  acknowledging  this  she  had  emphat- 
ically denied  having  associated  the  firing  of  this 
shot  with  any  idea  of  harm  to  her  sister;  yet  was 
known  to  have  gone  from  this  house  in  a  condition 
of  mind  so  serious  that  she  failed  to  recollect  the 
places  she  visited  or  the  streets  she  passed  through 
till  she  found  herself  again  in  her  sister's  house 
face  to  face  with  an  officer. 

9.  That  her  first  greeting  of  this  officer  was  a 
shriek,  betraying  a  knowledge  of  his  errand  before 
he  had  given  utterance  to  a  word. 

10.  That  the  candles  found  in  the  Moore  house 


A  FRESH  START  249 

were  similar  to  those  bought  by  Mr.  Jeffrey  and 
afterward  delivered  at  his  kitchen  door. 

11.  That  she  was  the  only  member  of  the  house- 
hold besides  the  cook  who  was  in  the  kitchen  at  the 
time,  and  that  it  was  immediately  after  her  depart- 
ure from  the  room  that  the  package  containing 
the  candles  had  been  missed. 

12.  That  opportunities  of  coming  to  an  under- 
standing with  Mr.  Jeffrey  after  his  wife's  death 
had  not  been  lacking  and  it  was  not  until  after 
such  opportunities  had  occurred  that  any  serious 
inquiry    into    this    matter    had    been    begun    by 
the   police.     To    which    must   be    added,    not    in 
way  of  proof  but  as  an  important  factor  in  the 
case,    that    her    manner,    never    open,    was    such 
throughout   her  whole   public   examination    as   to 
make  it  evident  to  all  that  only  half  of  what  had 
occurred  in  the  Jeffreys'  house  since  the  wedding 
had  been  given  out  by  her  or  by  the  man  for  whose 
release   from  a  disappointing  matrimonial   entan- 
glement she  was  supposed  to  have  worked;  this, 
though    the    suspicion    hanging    over   them    both 
called  for  the  utmost  candor. 

Verily,  a  serious  list;  and  opposed  to  this  I  had 
as  yet  little  to  offer  but  my  own  belief  in  her  inno- 
cence and  the  fact,  but  little  dwelt  on  and  yet  not 
without  its  value,  that  the  money  which  had  come 


250  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

to  Mr.  Jeffrey,  and  the  home  which  had  been  given 
her,  had  both  been  forfeited  by  Mrs.  Jeffrey's 
death. 

As  I  mused  and  mused  over  this  impromptu 
synopsis,  in  my  vain  attempt  to  reach  some  fresh 
clue  to  a  proper  understanding  of  the  inconsisten- 
cies in  Miss  Tuttle's  conduct  by  means  of  my  theory 
of  her  strong  but  mistaken  devotion  to  Mr.  Jeffrey, 
a  light  suddenly  broke  upon  me  from  an  entirely 
unexpected  quarter.  It  was  a  faint  one,  but 
any  glimmer  was  welcome.  Remembering  a  re- 
mark made  by  Mr.  Jeffrey  in  his  examination,  that 
Mrs.  Jeffrey  had  not  been  the  same  since  crossing 
the  fatal  doorstep  of  the  Moore  house,  I  asked  my- 
self if  we  had  paid  enough  attention  to  the  mental 
condition  and  conduct  of  the  bride  prior  to  the 
alarm  which  threw  a  pall  of  horror  over  her  mar- 
riage; and  caught  by  the  idea,  I  sought  for  a 
fuller  account  of  the  events  of  that  day  than  had 
hitherto  been  supplied  by  newspaper  or  witness. 

Hunting  up  my  friend,  the  reporter,  I  begged 
him  to  tell  me  where  he  had  obtained  the  facts 
from  which  he  made  that  leading  article  in  the  Star 
which  had  so  startled  all  Washington  on  the  even- 
ing  of  the  Jeffrey  wedding.  That  they  had  come 
from  some  eye-witness  I  had  no  doubt,  but  who  was 
the  eye-witness?  Himself?  No.  Who  then?  At 
first  he  declined  to  tell  me,  but  after  a  fuller  under^» 


A  FRESH  START  251 

standing  of  my  motives  he  mentioned  the  name  of 
a  young  lady,  who,  while  a  frequent  guest  at  the 
most  fashionable  functions,  was  not  above  supply- 
ing the  papers  with  such  little  items  of  current  gos- 
sip as  came  under  her  own  observation. 

How  I  managed  to  approach  this  lady  and  by 
what  means  I  succeeded  in  gaining  her  confidence 
are  details  quite  unnecessary  to  this  narrative. 
Enough  that  I  did  obtain  access  to  her  and  that 
she  talked  quite  frankly  to  me,  and  in  so  doing  sup- 
plied me  with  a  clue  which  ultimately  opened  up  to 
me  an  entirely  new  field  of  inquiry. 

We  had  been  discussing  Mr.  Jeffrey  and  Miss 
Tuttle,  when  suddenly,  and  with  no  apparent  mo- 
tive beyond  the  natural  love  of  gossip  which  was 
her  weakness,  she  launched  out  into  remarks  about 
the  bride.  The  ceremony  had  been  late;  did  I 
know  it?  A  half-hour  or  three  quarters  past  the 
time  set  for  it.  And  why?  Because  Miss  Moore 
was  not  ready.  She  had  chosen  to  array  herself 
in  the  house  and  had  come  early  enough  for  the 
purpose;  but  she  would  not  accept  any  assistance, 
not  even  that  of  her  maid,  and  of  course  she  kept 
every  one  waiting.  "Oh,  there  was  no  more  un- 
easy soul  in  the  whole  party  that  morning  than 
the  bride !"  Let  other  people  remark  upon  the  high 
look  in  Cora  Tuttle's  face,  or  gossip  about  the 
anxious  manner  of  the  bridegroom ;  she,  the 


252  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

er,  could  tell  things  about  the  bride  which  would 
go  to  show  that  she  was  not  all  right  even  before 
that  ominous  death's-head  reared  itself  into  view 
at  her  marriage  festival.  Why,  the  fact  that  she 
came  downstairs  and  was  married  without  her 
bridal  bouquet  was  enough.  Had  there  not  been 
so  much  else  to  talk  about,  people  would  have  talked 
about  that.  But  the  big  event  had  so  effectually 
swallowed  up  the  little  that  only  herself,  and  pos- 
sibly two  other  ladies  she  might  name,  seemed  to 
retain  any  memory  of  the  matter. 

"What  ladies?"  I  asked. 

"Oh,  it  doesn't  matter  what  ladies.  Two  of  the 
very  best  sort.  I  know  they  noticed  it,  because  I 
heard  them  talking  about  it.  We  were  all  standing 
in  the  upper  hall  and  were  all  crowded  into  a  pas- 
sage leading  to  the  room  where  the  bride  was  dress- 
ing. It  was  before  the  alarm  had  gone  around  of 
what  had  been  discovered  in  the  library,  and  we 
were  all  impatient  enough  for  the  appearance  of 
the  bride,  who,  we  had  been  told,  intended  to  wear 
the  old  point  in  which  her  great-grandmother  was 
married.  I  have  a  weakness  for  old  point  and  I 
was  determined  to  stand  where  I  could  see  her  come 
out,  even  if  I  lost  sight  of  the  ceremony  itself.  But 
it  would  have  been  tedious  enough  waiting  in  that 
close  hall  if  the  ladies  behind  me  had  not  kept  up  a 
conversation,  which  I,  of  course,  pretended  not  tq 


A  FRESH  START  253 

hear.  I  remember  It,  every  word,  for  it  was  my 
sole  amusement  for  half  an  hour.  What  was  it? 
Oh,  it  was  about  that  same  bouquet,  which,  by  the 
way,  I  had  the  privilege  of  staring  at  all  the  time 
they  chatted.  For  the  boy  who  brought  it  had  not 
been  admitted  into  Miss  Moore's  room,  and,  not 
knowing  what  else  to  do  with  it,  was  lingering  be- 
fore her  door,  with  the  great  streamers  falling 
from  his  hands,  and  the  lilies  making  the  whole 
place  heavy  with  a  sickening  perfume.  From  what 
I  heard  the  ladies  say,  he  had  been  standing  there 
an  hour,  and  the  timid  knock  he  gave  from  time 
to  time  produced  in  me  an  odd  feeling  which  those 
ladies  behind  me  seemed  to  share. 

"  'It's  a  shame !'  I  heard  one  of  them  cry.  'Ve- 
ronica Moore  has  no  excuse  for  such  thoughtless- 
ness. It  is  an  hour  now  that  she  has  been  shut  up 
in  her  room  alone.  She  won't  have  even  her  maid 
in.  She  prefers  to  dress  alone,  she  says.  Pecu- 
liar in  a  bride,  isn't  it?  But  one  thing  is  certain: 
she  can  not  put  on  her  veil  without  help.  She  will 
have  to  call  some  one  in  for  that.'  At  which  the 
other  volunteered  that  the  Moores  were  all  queer, 
and  that  she  didn't  envy  Francis  Jeffrey.  'What ! 
not  with  fifty  thousand  a  year  to  lighten  her  oddi- 
ties?' returned  her  companion  with  a  shrug  which 
communicated  itself  to  me,  so  closely  were  we 
packed  together.  'I  have  a  son  who  could  bear 


254  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

with  them  under  such  circumstances.'  Indeed  she 
has,  and  all  Washington  knows  it,  but  the  remark 
passed  without  comment,  for  they  had  not  yet  ex- 
hausted the  main  event,  and  the  person  they  now 
attacked  was  Miss  Tuttle.  'Why  doesn't  she  come 
and  see  that  that  bouquet  is  taken  in?  I  declare 
it's  not  decent.  Mr.  Jeffrey  would  not  feel  com- 
plimented if  he  knew  the  fate  of  those  magnificent 
lilies  and  roses.  I  presume  he  furnished  the  bou- 
quet.' 

"  'Miss  Tuttle  has  looked  out  of  her  room  once,' 
I  heard  the  other  reply.  'She  is  in  splendid  beauty 
to-day,  but  pale.  But  she  never  could  control 
Veronica.'  'Hush!  you  speak  louder  than  you 
think.'  This  amused  me,  and  I  do  believe  that  in 
another  moment  I  should  have  laughed  outright  if 
another  boy  had  not  appeared  in  the  hall  before 
us,  who,  shoving  aside  the  first,  rapped  on  the  door 
with  a  spirit  which  called  for  answer.  But  he  was 
no  more  successful  than  the  other  boy  had  been; 
so,  being  a  brisk  fellow,  with  no  time  for  nonsense, 
he  called  out,  'Your  bouquet,  Miss,  and  a  message, 
which  I  am  to  give  you  before  you  go  downstairs ! 
The  gentleman  is  quite  particular  about  it.'  These 
words  were  literally  shouted  at  the  door,  but  in  the 
hubbub  of  voices  about  us  I  don't  believe  any  one 
heard  them  but  ourselves  and  the  bride.  I  know 
that  she  heard  them,  for  she  opened  the  door  a  very 


A  FRESH  START  255 

little  way, — such  a  very  little  way  that  the  boy  had 
to  put  his  lips  to  the  crack  when  he  spoke,  and 
then  turn  and  place  his  ear  where  his  lips  had  been 
in  order  to  catch  her  reply.  This,  for  some  reason, 
seemed  a  long  time  in  coming,  and  the  fellow  grew 
so  impatient  that  he  amused  himself  by  snatching 
the  bouquet  from  the  other  boy  and  thrusting  it  in 
through  the  crack,  to  the  very  great  detriment  of 
its  roses  and  lilies.  When  she  took  it  he  bawled 
for  his  answer,  and  when  he  got  it,  he  stared  and 
muttered  doubtfully  to  himself  as  he  worked  his 
way  out  again  through  the  crowd,  which  by  this 
time  was  beginning  to  choke  up  all  the  halls  and 
stairways. 

"But  why  have  I  told  you  all  this  nonsense?" 
she  asked  quite  suddenly.  "It  isn't  of  the  least 
consequence  that  Veronica  Moore  kept  a  boy  wait- 
ing at  her  door  while  she  dressed  herself  for  her 
wedding ;  but  it  shows  that  she  was  queer  even  then, 
and  I  for  one  believe  in  the  theory  of  suicide,  and 
in  that  alone,  and  in  the  excuse  she  gave  for  it,  too; 
for  if  she  had  really  loved  Francis  Jeffrey  she 
would  not  have  been  so  slow  to  take  in  the  magnifi- 
cent bouquet  he  had  provided  for  her." 

But  comment,  even  from  those  who  had  known 
these  people  well,  was  not  what  I  wanted  at  this 
moment,  but  facts.  So,  without  much  attention  to 
these  words,  I  said: 


256  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

"You  will  excuse  me  if  I  suggest  that  you  are 
going  on  too  fast.  The  door  of  the  bride's  room 
has  just  been  shut  upon  the  boy  who  brought  her  a 
message.  When  was  it  opened  again?" 

"Not  for  a  good  half-hour;  not  till  every  one 
had  grown  nervous  and  Miss  Tuttle  and  one  or  two 
of  her  most  intimate  friends  had  gone  more  than 
once  to  her  door ;  not,  in  fact,  till  the  hour  for  the 
ceremony  had  come  and  gone  and  Mr.  Jeffrey  had 
crossed  the  hall  twice  under  the  impression  that 
she  was  ready  for  him.  Then,  when  weariness  was 
general  and  people  were  asking  what  kept  the  bride 
and  how  much  longer  they  were  to  be  kept  waiting, 
her  door  suddenly  opened  and  I  caught  a  glimpse 
of  her  face  and  heard  her  ask  at  last  for  her  maid. 
O,  I  repeat  that  Veronica  Moore  was  not  all  right 
that  day,  and  though  I  have  heard  no  one  com- 
ment on  the  fact,  it  has  been  a  mystery  to  me  ever 
since  why  she  gave  that  sudden  recoil  when  Francis 
Jeffrey  took  her  hand  after  the  benediction.  It 
was  not  timidity,  nor  was  it  fear,  for  she  did  not 
know  till  a  minute  afterward  what  had  happened 
in  the  House.  Did  some  sudden  realization  of  what 
she  had  done  in  marrying  a  man  whom  she  herself 
declared  she  did  not  love  come  when  it  was  too  late  ? 
What  do  you  think?" 

Miss  Freeman  had  forgotten  herself ;  but  the  im- 
petuosity which  had  led  her  into  asking  my  opin- 


A  FRESH  START  257 

ion  made  her  forget  in  another  moment  that  she  had 
done  so.  And  when  in  my  turn  I  propounded  a 
question  and  inquired  whether  she  ever  again  saw 
the  boy  who  besieged  the  bride's  door  with  a  mes- 
sage, she  graciously  replied: 

"The  boy;  let  me  see.  Yes,  I  saw  him  twice; 
once  in  a  back  hall  talking  earnestly  to  Mr.  Jeffrey, 
and  secondly  at  the  carriage  door  just  before  the 
bridal  party  rode  away.  It  was  Mrs.  Jeffrey  who 
was  talking  to  him  then,  and  I  wondered  to  see  him 
look  so  pleased  when  everybody  in  and  about  the 
house  was  pale  as  ashes." 

"Do  you  know  the  name  of  that  boy?"  I  care- 
lessly inquired. 

"His  name?  O  no.  He  is  one  of  Raucher's 
waiters ;  the  curly-haired  one.  You  see  him  every- 
where ;  but  I  don't  know  his  name.  Do  you  flatter 
yourself  that  he  can  tell  you  anything  that  other 
people  don't  know?  Why,  if  he  knew  the  least 
thing  that  wasn't  in  everybody's  mouth,  you  would 
have  heard  from  him  long  ago.  Those  men  are 
the  greatest  gossips  in  town" — I  wonder  what  she 
thought  of  herself, — "and  so  proud  to  be  of  any 
importance."  This  was  true  enough,  though  I 
did  not  admit  it  at  the  time;  and  when  the  inter- 
view was  closed  and  I  went  away,  I  have  no  doubt 
she  considered  me  quite  the  most  heavy  person  she 
had  ever  met.  But  this  did  not  disturb  me.  The 


258  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

little  facts  she  had  stated  were  new  to  me  and,  re- 
peating my  former  method,  I  was  already  busy 
arranging  them  in  my  mind.  Witness  the  result: 

1.  The  ceremony  of  marriage  between  Francis 
Jeffrey  and  Veronica  Moore  was  fully  three-quar- 
ters of  an  hour  late. 

2.  This  was  owing  to  the  caprice  of  the  bride, 
who  would  not  have  any  one  in  the  room  with  her, 
not  even  her  maid. 

3.  The  bridal  bouquet  did  not  figure  in  the  cere- 
mony.    In  the  flurry  of  the  moment  it  was  forgot- 
ten or  purposely  left  behind  by  the  bride.     As 
this  bouquet  was  undoubtedly  the  gift  of  Mr.  Jef- 
frey, the  fact  may  be  significant. 

4.  She  received  a  message  of  a  somewhat  per- 
emptory   character    before    going    below.     From 
whom?     Her    bridegroom?     It    would   so    appear 
from  the  character  of  the  message. 

5.  The  messenger  showed  great  astonishment  at 
the  reply  he  was  given  to  carry  back.   Yet  he  has 
not  been  known  to  mention   the  matter.     Why? 
When  every  one  talked  he  was  silent.     Through 
whose  influence?     This  was  something  to  find  out. 

6.  Though  at  the  time  the  benediction  was  pro- 
nounced every  one  was  in  a  state  of  alarm  except 
the  bride,  it  was  noticed  that  she  gave  an  invol- 
untary recoil  when  her  bridegroom  stooped  for  the 
customary  kiss.     Why?     Were  the  lines  of  her 


A  FRESH  START  259 

last  farewell  true  then,  and  did  she  experience  at 
that  moment  a  sudden  realization  of  her  lack  of 
love  ? 

7.  She  did  not  go  again  upstairs,  but  very  soon 
fled  from  the  house  with  the  rest  of  the  bridal 
party. 

Petty  facts,  all,  but  possibly  more  significant 
than  appeared.  I  made  up  my  mind  to  find  the  boy 
who  brought  the  bouquet  and  also  the  one  who 
carried  back  her  message. 

But  here  a  surprise,  if  not  a  check,  awaited  me. 
The  florist's  boy  had  left  his  place  and  no  one  could 
tell  where  he  had  gone.  Neither  could  I  find  the 
curly-haired  waiter  at  Raucher's.  He  had  left 
also,  but  it  was  to  join  the  volunteers  at  San  An- 
tonio. 

Was  there  meaning  in  this  coincidence?  I  re- 
solved to  know.  Visiting  the  former  haunts  of 
both  boys,  I  failed  to  come  upon  any  evidence  of 
an  understanding  between  them,  or  of  their  having 
shown  any  special  interest  in  the  Jeffrey  tragedy. 
Both  seemed  to  have  been  strangely  reticent  in  re- 
gard to  it,  the  florist's  boy  showing  stupidity  and 
the  waiter  such  satisfaction  in  his  prospective  sol- 
diering that  no  other  topic  was  deemed  worthy  his 
attention.  The  latter  had  a  sister  and  she  could  not 
say  enough  of  the  delight  her  brother  had  shown 
at  the  prospect  of  riding  a  horse  again  and  of  fight- 


260  THE   FILIGREE   BALL 

ing  in  such  good  company.  He  had  had  some  ex- 
perience as  a  cowboy  before  coming  to  Washing- 
ton, and  from  the  moment  war  was  declared  had 
expressed  his  intention  of  joining  the  recruits  for 
Cuba  as  soon  as  he  could  see  her  so  provided  for 
that  his  death  would  not  rob  her  of  proper  sup- 
port. How  this  had  come  about  she  did  not  know. 
Three  weeks  before  he  had  been  in  despair  over  the 
faint  prospect  of  doing  what  he  wished;  then 
suddenly,  and  without  any  explanation  of  how 
the  change  had  come  about,  he  had  rushed  in 
upon  her  with  the  news  that  he  was  going  to  enlist 
in  a  company  made  up  of  bronco  busters  and  rough 
riders  from  the  West,  that  she  need  not  worry 
about  herself  or  about  him,  for  he  had  just  put 
five  hundred  dollars  to  her  account  in  bank,  and 
that  as  for  himself  he  possessed  a  charmed 
life  and  was  immune,  as  she  well  knew,  and  need 
fear  bullets  no  more  than  the  fever.  By  this  he 
meant  that  he  had  had  yellow  fever  years  be- 
fore in  Louisiana,  and  that  a  ball  which  had  once 
been  fired  at  him  had  gone  clean  through  his  body 
without  taking  his  life. 

"What  was  the  date  of  the  evening  on  which 
he  told  you  he  had  placed  money  in  bank  for  you?" 

"April  the  twenty-ninth." 

Two  days  after  the  Jeffrey-Moore  wedding! 

Convinced   now  that   his  departure   from  town 


A  FRESH  START  261 

was  something  more  than  a  coincidence,  I  pur- 
sued my  inquiries  and  found  that  he  had  been  re- 
ceived, just  as  she  had  said,  into  the  First  Volunteer 
Corps  under  Colonel  Wood.  This  required  influ- 
ence. Whose  was  the  influence?  It  took  me  some 
time  to  find  out,  but  after  many  and  various  at- 
tempts, most  of  which  ended  in  failure,  I  succeeded 
in  learning  that  the  man  who  had  worked  and  ob- 
tained for  him  a  place  in  this  favored  corps  was 
Francis  Jeffrey. 


XVIII 

IN  THE  GRASS 

I  did  some  tall  thinking  that  night.  I  remem- 
bered that  this  man  had  held  some  conversation  with 
the  Jeffreys  at  their  carriage  door  previous  to  their 
departure  from  the  Moore  house,  and  found  myself 
compelled  to  believe  that  only  a  matter  of  impor- 
tance to  themselves  as  well  as  to  him  would  have 
detained  them  at  such  a  minute.  Oh,  that  Tampa 
were  not  so  far  off  or  that  I  had  happened  on  this 
clue  earlier !  But  Tampa  was  at  that  moment  a  far 
prospect  for  me  and  I  could  only  reason  from  such 
facts  as  I  had  been  able  to  collect  in  Washington. 

Fixing  my  mind  now  on  Mrs.  Jeffrey,  I  asked 
the  cause  of  the  many  caprices  which  had  marked 
her  conduct  on  her  wedding  morning.  Why  had 
she  persisted  in  dressing  alone,  and  what  occa- 
sioned the  absorption  which  led  to  her  ignoring  all 
appeals  at  her  door  at  a  time  when  a  woman  is  sup- 
posed to  be  more  than  usually  gracious?  But  one 
answer  suggested  itself.  Her  heart  was  not  in  her 
marriage,  and  that  last  hour  of  her  maidenhood 


IN  THE  GRASS  263 

had  been  an  hour  of  anguish  and  struggle.  Per- 
haps she  not  only  failed  to  love  Francis  Jeffrey, 
but  loved  some  other  man.  This  seemed  improb- 
able, but  things  as  strange  as  this  have  hap- 
pened in  our  complex  society  and  no  reckoning  can 
be  made  with  a  woman's  fancy.  If  this  was  so — 
and  what  other  theory  would  better  or  even  so  well 
account  for  her  peculiar  behavior  both  then  and 
afterward?  The  hour  usually  given  by  brides 
to  dress  and  gladsome  expectation  was  with  her  one 
of  farewell  to  past  hopes  and  an  unfortunate,  if  not 
passionate,  attachment.  No  wonder  that  she 
wished  to  be  alone.  No  wonder  that  interruption 
angered  her.  Perhaps  it  had  found  her  on  her 
knees.  Perhaps —  Here  I  felt  myself  seized  by 
a  strong  and  sudden  excitement.  I  remembered 
the  filings  I  had  gathered  up  from  the  small  stand 
by  the  window,  filings  which  had  glittered  and 
which  must  have  been  of  gold.  What  was  the  con- 
clusion? In  this  last  hour  of  her  maiden  life 
she  had  sought  to  rid  herself  of  some  article  of 
jewelry  which  she  found  it  undesirable  to  carry 
into  her  new  life.  What  article  of  jewelry?  In 
consideration  of  the  circumstances  and  the  hour,  I 
could  think  of  but  one.  A  ring!  the  symbol  of 
some  old  attachment. 

The  slight  abrasion  at  the  base  of  her  third  fin- 
ger, which  had  been  looked  upon  as  the  result  of 


264.  THE    FILIGREE   BALL 

too  rough  and  speedy  a  withdrawing  of  the  wed- 
ding-ring on  the  evening  of  her  death,  was  much 
more  likely  to  have  been  occasioned  by  the  reopen- 
ing of  some  little  wound  made  two  weeks  before  by 
the  file.  If  Durbin  and  the  rest  had  taken  into  ac- 
count these  filings,  they  must  have  come  to  very 
much  the  same  conclusion ;  but  either  they  had  over- 
looked them  in  their  search  about  the  place,  or,  hav- 
ing noted  them,  regarded  them  as  a  clue  leading 
nowhere. 

But  for  me  they  led  the  way  to  a  very  definite 
inquiry.  Asking  to  see  the  rings  Mrs.  Jeffrey  had 
left  behind  her  on  the  night  she  went  for  the  last 
time  to  the  Moore  house,  I  looked  them  carefully 
over,  and  found  that  none  of  them  showed  the 
least  mark  of  the  file.  This  strengthened  my  the- 
ory, and  I  proceeded  to  take  my  next  step  with 
increased  confidence.  It  seemed  an  easy  one,  but 
proved  unexpectedly  difficult.  My  desire  was  to 
ascertain  whether  she  had  worn  previous  to  her 
marriage  any  rings  which  had  not  been  seen  on  her 
finger  since,  and  it  took  me  one  whole  week  to  es- 
tablish the  fact  that  she  had. 

But  that  fact  once  learned,  the  way  cleared  be- 
fore me.  Allowing  my  fancy  full  rein,  I  pictured 
to  myself  her  anxious  figure  standing  alone  in  that 
ancient  and  ghostly  room  filing  off  this  old  ring 


IN  THE  GRASS  265 

from  her  dainty  finger.  Then  I  asked  myself  what 
she  would  be  likely  to  do  with  this  ring  after  disen- 
gaging it  from  her  hand?  Would  she  keep  it? 
Perhaps;  but  if  so,  why  could  it  not  be  found? 
None  such  had  been  discovered  among  her  effects. 
Or  had  she  thrown  it  away,  and  if  so,  where?  The 
vision  of  her  which  I  had  just  seen  in  my  mind's 
eye  came  out  with  a  clearness  at  this,  which 
struck  me  as  providential.  I  could  discern  as 
plainly  as  if  I  had  been  a  part  of  the  scene  the 
white-clad  form  of  the  bride  bending  toward  the 
light  which  came  in  sparsely  through  the  half- 
open  shutter  she  had  loosened  for  this  task. 
This  was  the  shutter  which  had  never  again 
been  fastened  and  whose  restless  blowing  to  and  fro 
had  first  led  attention  to  this  house  and  the  crime 
it  might  otherwise  have  concealed  indefinitely. 
Had  some  glimpse  of  the  rank  grass  growing  un- 
derneath this  window  lured  her  eye  and  led  her  to 
cast  away  the  ring  which  she  had  no  longer  any 
right  to  keep  ?  It  would  be  like  a  woman  to  yield 
to  such  an  impulse;  and  on  the  strength  of  the 
possibility  I  decided  to  search  this  small  plot  for 
what  it  might  very  reasonably  conceal. 

But  I  did  not  wish  to  do  this  openly.  I  was  not 
only  afraid  of  attracting  Durbin's  attention  by  an 
attempt  which  could  only  awaken  his  disdain,  but 


266  THE   FILIGREE   BALL 

I  hesitated  to  arouse  the  suspicion  of  Mr.  Moore, 
whose  interest  in  his  newly  acquired  property  made 
him  very  properly  alert  to  any  trespass  upon  it. 

The  undertaking,  therefore,  presented  difficul- 
ties. But  it  was  my  business  to  overcome  these, 
and  before  long  I  conceived  a  plan  by  which 
every  blade  of  grass  in  the  narrow  strip  running 
in  front  of  this  house  might  be  gone  over  without 
rousing  anything  more  serious  than  Uncle  David's 
ire. 

Calling  together  a  posse  of  street  urchins,  I  or- 
ganized them  into  a  band,  with  the  promise  of  a 
good  supper  all  around  if  one  of  them  brought  me 
the  pieces  of  a  broken  ring  which  I  had  lost  in  the 
grass  plot  of  a  house  where  I  had  been  called  upon 
to  stay  all  night.  That  they  might  win  the  sup- 
per in  the  shortest  possible  time  and  before  the 
owner  of  this  house,  who  lived  opposite,  could  in- 
terfere, I  advised  them  to  start  at  the  fence  in  a 
long  line  and,  proceeding  on  their  knees,  to  search, 
each  one,  the  ground  before  him  to  the  width  of 
his  own  body.  The  fortunate  one  was  to  have  the 
privilege  of  saying  what  the  supper  should  consist 
of.  To  give  a  plausible  excuse  for  this  search,  a 
ball  was  to  be  tossed  up  and  down  the  street  till  it 
lighted  in  the  Moore  house  inclosure. 

It  was  a  scheme  to  fire  the  street  boy's  soul,  and 
I  was  only  afraid  of  failure  from  the  over-enthu- 


IN  THE  GRASS  267 

siasm  it  aroused.  But  the  injunctions  which  I  gave 
them  to  spare  the  shrubs  and  not  to  trample  the 
grass  any  more  than  was  necessary  were  so  minute 
and  impressive  that  they  moved  away  to  their  task 
in  unexpected  order  and  with  a  subdued  cheerful- 
ness highly  promising  of  success. 

I  did  not  accompany  them.  Jinny,  who  has 
such  an  innocent  air  on  the  street,  took  my 
place  and  promenaded  up  and  down  the  block, 
just  to  see  that  Mr.  Moore  did  not  make  too  much 
trouble.  And  it  was  well  she  did  so,  for  though  he 
was  not  at  home, — I  had  chosen  the  hour  of  his 
afternoon  ride, — his  new  man-servant  was ;  and  he 
no  sooner  perceived  this  crowd  of  urchins  making 
for  the  opposite  house  than  he  rushed  at  them,  and 
would  have  scattered  them  far  and  wide  in  a  twink- 
ling if  the  demure  dimples  of  my  little  ally  had  not 
come  into  play  and  distracted  his  attention  so  com- 
pletely as  to  make  him  forget  the  throng  of  un- 
kempt hoodlums  who  seemed  bound  to  invade  his 
master's  property.  She  was  looking  for  Mr. 
Moore's  house,  she  told  him.  Did  he  know  Mr. 
Moore,  and  his  house  which  was  somewhere  near? 
Not  his  new,  great,  big  house,  where  the  horrible 
things  took  place  of  which  she  had  read  in  the  pa- 
pers, but  his  little  old  house,  which  she  had  heard 
was  soon  to  be  for  rent,  and  which  she  thought 
would  be  just  the  right  size  for  herself  and  mother. 


268  THE    FILIGREE   BALL 

Was  that  it?  That  dear  little  place  all  smothered 
in  vines?  How  lovely!  and  what  would  the  rent 
be,  did  he  think?  and  had  it  a  back-yard  with  gar- 
den-room enough  for  her  to  raise  pinks  and  nas- 
turtiums ?  and  so  on,  and  so  on,  while  he  stared  with 
delighted  eyes,  and  tried  to  put  in  a  word  edge- 
wise, and  the  boys — well,  they  went  through  that 
strip  of  grass  in  just  ten  minutes.  My  brave 
little  Jinny  had  just  declared  with  her  most  roguish 
smile  that  she  would  run  home  and  tell  her  mother 
all  about  this  sweetest  of  sweet  little  places,  when 
a  shout  rose  from  the  other  side  of  the  street,  and 
that  collection  of  fifteen  or  twenty  boys  scampered 
away  as  if  mad,  shouting  in  joyous  echo  of  the 
boy  at  their  head : 

"It's  to  be  chicken,  heaping  plates  of  ice  cream 
and  sponge-cake." 

By  which  token  she  knew  that  the  ring  had  been 
found. 

******* 

When  they  brought  this  ring  to  me  I  would  not 
have  exchanged  places  with  any  man  on  earth.  As 
Jinny  herself  was  curious  enough  to  stroll  along 
about  this  time,  I  held  it  out  where  we  both  could 
see  it  and  draw  our  conclusions. 

It  was  a  plain  gold  circlet  set  with  a  single  small 
ruby.  It  was  cut  through  and  twisted  out  of  shape 
just  as  I  had  anticipated;  and  as  I  examined  it  I 


IN  THE  GRASS  269 

wondered  what  part  it  had  played  and  was  yet 
destined  to  play  in  the  drama  of  Veronica  Jeffrey's 
mysterious  life  and  still  more  mysterious  death. 
That  it  was  a  factor  of  some  importance,  arguing 
some  early  school-girl  love,  I  could  but  gather 
from  the  fact  that  its  removal  from  her  finger  was 
effected  in  secrecy  and  under  circumstances  of  such 
pressing  haste.  How  could  I  learn  the  story  of 
that  ring  and  the  possible  connection  between  it 
and  Mr.  Jeffrey's  professed  jealousy  of  his  wife 
and  the  disappointing  honeymoon  which  had  fol- 
lowed their  marriage?  That  this  feeling  on  his 
part  had  antedated  the  ambassador's  ball  no  one 
could  question;  but  that  it  had  started  as  far 
back  as  the  wedding  day  was  a  new  idea  to 
me  and  one  which  suggested  many  possibili- 
ties. Could  this  idea  be  established,  and,  if  so, 
how?  But  one  avenue  of  inquiry  offered  itself. 
The  waiter,  who  had  been  spirited  away  so 
curiously  immediately  after  the  wedding,  might 
be  able  to  give  us  some  information  on  this  interest- 
ing point.  He  had  been  the  medium  of  the  mes- 
sages which  had  passed  between  her  and  Mr.  Jef- 
frey just  prior  to  the  ceremony;  afterward  he 
had  been  seen  talking  earnestly  to  that  gentleman 
and  later  with  her.  Certainly,  it  would  add  to  our 
understanding  of  the  situation  to  know  what  reply 
she  had  sent  to  the  peremptory  demand  made 


270  THE   FILIGREE   BALL 

upon  her  at  so  critical  a  time, — an  understand- 
ing so  desirable  that  the  very  prospect  of  it 
was  almost  enough  to  warrant  a  journey  to  Tam- 
pa. Yet,  say  that  the  results  were  disappointing, 
how  much  time  lost  and  what  a  sum  of  money !  I 
felt  the  need  of  advice  in  this  crisis,  yet  hesitated 
co  ask  it.  My  cursed  pride  and  my  no  less  cursed 
jealousy  of  Durbin  stood  very  much  in  my  way  at 
this  time. 

A  week  had  now  passed  since  the  inquest,  and, 
while  Miss  Tuttle  still  remained  at  liberty,  it  was 
a  circumscribed  liberty  which  must  have  been  very 
galling  to  one  of  her  temperament  and  habits. 
She  rode  and  she  walked,  but  she  entered  no  house 
unattended  nor  was  she  allowed  any  communica- 
tion with  Mr.  Jeffrey.  Nevertheless  she  saw  him, 
or  at  least  gave  him  the  opportunity  of  seeing  her. 
Each  day  at  three  o'clock  she  rode  through  K 
Street,  and  the  detective  who  watched  Mr.  Jeffrey's 
house  said  that  she  never  passed  it  without  turning 
her  face  to  the  second-story  window,  where  he  in- 
variably stood.  No  signs  passed  between  them; 
indeed,  they  scarcely  nodded;  but  her  face,  as  she 
lifted  it  to  meet  his  eye,  showed  so  marked  a  seren- 
ity and  was  so  altogether  beautiful  that  this  same 
detective  had  a  desire  to  see  if  it  maintained  like 
characteristics  when  she  was  not  within  reach  of  her 
brother-in-law.  Accordingly,  the  next  day  he 


IN  THE  GRASS  271 

delegated  his  place  to  another  and  took  his  stand 
farther  down  the  street.  Alas!  it  was  not  the 
same  woman's  face  he  saw ;  but  a  far  different  and 
sadder  one.  She  wore  that  look  of  courage  and 
brave  hope  only  in  passing  Mr.  Jeffrey's  house. 
Was  it  simply  an  expression  of  her  secret  devotion 
to  him  or  the  signal  of  some  compact  which  had 
been  entered  into  between  them? 

Whichever  it  was,  it  touched  my  heart,  even  in 
his  description  of  it.  After  advising  with  Jinny 
I  approached  the  superintendent,  to  whom,  with- 
out further  reserve,  I  opened  my  heart. 

The  next  day  I  found  myself  on  the  train  bound 
for  Tampa,  with  full  authority  to  follow  Curly 
Jim  until  I  found  him. 


BOOK  HI 
THE  HOUSE  OF  DOOM 


XIX 

IN  TAMPA 

When  I  started  on  this  desperate  search  after  a 
witness,  war  had  been  declared,  but  no  advance  as 
yet  ordered  on  Cuba.  But  during  my  journey 
south  the  long  expected  event  happened,  and  on 
my  arrival  in  Tampa  I  found  myself  in  the  midst 
of  departure  and  everything  in  confusion. 

Of  course,  under  such  conditions  it  was  difficult 
to  find  my  man  on  the  instant.  Innumerable  in- 
quiries yielded  no  result,  and  in  the  absence  of  any 
one  who  would  or  could  give  me  the  desired  in- 
formation I  wandered  from  one  end  of  the  camp 
to  the  other  till  I  finally  encountered  a  petty  officer 
who  gave  signs  of  being  a  Rough  Rider.  Him  I 
stopped,  and,  with  some  hint  of  my  business,  asked 
where  James  Calvert  could  be  found. 

His  answer  was  a  stare  and  a  gesture  toward 
the  hospital  tents. 

Nothing  could  have  astonished  me  more. 

"Sick?"  I  cried. 

"Dying,"  was  his  answer. 
275 


276  THE   FILIGREE   BALL 

Dying!  Curly  Jim!  Impossible.  I  had  mis- 
led my  informant  as  to  the  exact  man  I  wanted,  or 
else  there  were  two  James  Calverts  in  Tampa. 
Curly  Jim,  the  former  cowboy,  was  not  the  fellow 
to  succumb  in  camp  before  he  had  ever  smelt  pow- 
der. 

"It  is  James  Calvert  of  the  First  Volunteer  Corps 
I  am  after,"  said  I.  "A  sturdy  fellow—" 

"No  doubt,  no  doubt.  Many  sturdy  fellows  are 
down.  He's  down  to  stay.  Typhoid,  you  know. 
Bad  case.  No  hope  from  the  start.  Pity,  but — " 

I  heard  no  more.  Dying!  Curly  Jim.  He 
who  was  considered  to  be  immune !  He  who  held 
the  secret — 

"Let  me  see  him,"  I  demanded.  "It  is  impor- 
tant— a  police  matter — a  word  from  him  may  save 
a  life.  He  is  still  breathing?" 

"Yes,  but  I  do  not  think  there  is  any  chance  of 
his  speaking.  He  did  not  recognize  his  nurse  five 
minutes  ago." 

As  bad  as  that!  But  I  did  not  despair.  I  did 
not  dare  to.  I  had  staked  everything  on  this  in- 
terview, and  I  was  not  going  to  lose  its  promised 
results  from  any  lack  of  effort  on  my  own  part. 

"Let  me  see  him,"  I  repeated. 

I  was  taken  in.  The  few  persons  I  saw  clustered 
about  a  narrow  cot  in  one  corner  gave  way  and  I 
was  cut  to  the  heart  to  see  that  they  did  this  not  so 


IN  TAMPA  277 

much  out  of  consideration  for  me  or  my  errand 
there  as  from  the  consciousness  that  their  business 
at  the  bedside  of  this  dying  man  was  over.  He 
was  on  the  point  of  breathing  his  last.  I  pressed 
forward,  and  after  one  quick  scrutiny  of  the  closed 
eyes  and  pale  face  I  knelt  at  his  side  and  whispered 
a  name  into  his  ear.  It  was  that  of  Veronica 
Moore. 

He  started ;  they  all  saw  it.  On  the  threshold  of 
death,  some  emotion — we  never  knew  what  one — 
drew  him  back  for  an  instant,  and  the  pale  cheek 
showed  a  suspicion  of  color.  Though  the  eyes 
did  not  open,  the  lips  moved,  and  I  caught  these 
words : 

"Kept  word — told  no  one — she  was  so — " 

And  that  was  all.     He  died  the  next  instant. 

Well!  I  was  woefully  done  up  by  this  sudden 
extinction  of  all  my  hopes.  They  had  been  ex- 
travagant, no  doubt,  but  they  had  sustained  me 
through  all  my  haps  and  mishaps,  trials  and  dan- 
gers, till  now,  here,  they  ended  with  the  one  inex- 
orable fact — death.  Was  I  doomed  to  defeat, 
then?  Must  I  go  back  to  the  major  with  my  con- 
victions unchanged  but  with  no  fresh  proof,  no 
real  evidence  to  support  them?  I  certainly  must. 
With  the  death  of  this  man,  all  means  of  reaching 
the  state  of  Mrs.  Jeffrey's  mind  immediately  pre- 
ceding her  marriage  were  gone.  I  could  never 


278  THE   FILIGREE   BALL 

learn  now  what  to  know  would  make  a  man  of  me 
and  possibly  save  Cora  Tuttle. 

Bending  under  this  stroke  of  Providence,  I 
passed  out.  A  little  boy  was  sobbing  at  the  tent 
door.  I  stared  at  him  curiously,  and  was  hurry- 
ing on,  when  I  felt  myself  caught  by  the  hand. 

"Take  me  with  you,"  cried  a  choked  and  fright- 
ened voice  in  my  ear.  "I  have  no  friend  here,  now 
he  is  gone ;  take  me  back  to  Washington." 

Washington !  I  turned  and  looked  at  the  lad 
who,  kneeling  in  the  hot  sand  at  the  door  of  the 
tent,  was  clutching  me  with  imploring  hands. 

"Who  are  you?"  I  asked;  "and  how  came  you 
here?  Do  you  belong  to  the  army?' 

"I  helped  care  for  his  horse,"  he  whispered.  "He 
found  me  smuggled  on  board  the  train — for  I  was 
bound  to  go  to  the  war — and  he  was  sorry  for  me 
and  used  to  give  me  bits  of  his  own  rations,  but — 
but  now  no  one  will  give  me  anything.  Take  me 
back;  she  won't  care.  She's  dead,  they  say.  Be- 
sides, I  wouldn't  stay  here  now  if  she  was  alive  and 
breathing.  I  have  had  enough  of  war  since  he — 
Oh,  he  was  good  to  me — I  never  cared  for  any  one 
so  much." 

I  looked  at  the  boy  with  an  odd  sensation  for 
which  I  have  no  name. 

"Whom  are  you  talking  about?"  I  asked.  "Your 
mother — your  sister?" 


IN  TAMPA  279 

"Oh,  no ;"  the  tone  was  simplicity  itself.  "Never 
had  no  mother.  I  mean  the  lady  at  the  big  house ; 
the  one  that  was  married.  She  gave  me  money  to 
go  out  of  Washington,  and,  wanting  to  be  a  sol- 
dier, I  followed  Curly  Jim.  I  didn't  think  he'd 
die;  he  looked  so  strong — .  What's  the  matter, 
sir?  Have  I  said  anything  I  shouldn't?" 

I  had  him  by  the  arm.  I  fear  that  I  was  shak- 
ing him. 

"The  lady!"  I  repeated.  "She  who  was  mar- 
ried— who  gave  you  money.  Wasn't  it  Mrs.  Jef- 
frey?" 

"Yes,  I  believe  that  was  the  name  of  the  man  she 
married.  I  didn't  know  him;  but  I  saw  her — " 

"Where?  And  why  did  she  give  you  money? 
I  will  take  you  home  with  me  if  you  tell  me  the 
truth  about  it." 

He  glanced  back  at  the  tent  from  which  I  had 
slightly  drawn  him  and  a  hungry  look  crept  into 
his  eyes. 

"Well,  it's  no  secret  now,"  he  muttered.  "He 
used  to  say  I  must  keep  my  mouth  shut;  but  he 
wouldn't  say  so  now  if  he  knew  I  could  get  home 
by  telling.  He  used  to  be  sorry  for  me,  he  used. 
What  do  you  want  to  know?" 

"Why  Mrs.  Jeffrey  gave  you  money  to  leave 
Washington." 

The  boy  trembled,  drew  a  step  away,  and  then 


280  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

came  back,  and  under  those  hot  Florida  skies,  in  the 
turmoil  of  departing  troops,  I  heard  these  words : 

"Because  I  heard  what  she  said  to  Jim." 

I  felt  my  heart  go  down,  then  up,  up,  beyond 
anything  I  had  ever  experienced  in  my  whole  life. 
The  way  before  me  was  not  closed  then.  A  wit- 
ness yet  remained,  though  Jim  was  dead.  The 
boy  was  oblivious  of  my  emotion;  he  was  staring 
with  great  mournfulness  at  the  tent. 

"And  what  was  that?"  said  I. 

His  attention,  which  had  been  wandering,  came 
back,  and  it  was  with  some  surprise  he  said : 

"It  was  not  much.  She  told  him  to  take  the 
gentleman  into  the  library.  But  it  was  the  library 
where  men  died,  and  he  just  went  and  died  there, 
too,  you  remember,  and  Jim  said  he  wasn't  ever 
going  to  speak  of  it,  and  so  I  promised  not  to, 
neither,  but — but — when  do  you  think  you  will  be 
starting,  sir?" 

I  did  not  answer  him.  I  was  feeling  very  queer, 
as  men  feel,  I  suppose,  who  in  some  crisis  or  event 
recognize  an  unexpected  interposition  of  Provi- 
dence. 

"Are  you  the  boy  who  ran  away  from  the  flor- 
ist's in  Washington?"  I  inquired  when  ready  to 
speak.  "The  boy  who  delivered  Miss  Moore's 
bridal  bouquet?" 

"Yes,  sir." 


IN  TAMPA  281 

I  let  go  of  his  hand  and  sat  down.  Surely  there 
was  a  power  greater  than  chance  governing  this 
matter.  Through  what  devious  ways  and  from 
what  unexpected  sources  had  I  come  upon  this 
knowledge  ? 

"Mrs.  Jeffrey,  or  Miss  Moore,  as  she  was  then, 
told  Jim  to  seat  the  gentleman  in  the  library,"  I 
now  said.  "Why?" 

"I  do  not  know.  He  told  her  the  gentleman's 
name  and  then  she  whispered  him  that.  I  heard 
her,  and  that  was  why  I  got  money,  too.  But  it's 
all  gone  now.  Oh,  sir,  when  are  you  going  back?" 

I  started  to  my  feet.  Was  it  in  answer  to  this 
appeal  or  because  I  realized  that  I  had  come  at 
last  upon  a  clue  calling  for  immediate  action? 

"I  am  going  now,"  said  I,  "and  you  are  going 
with  me.  Run !  for  the  train  we  take  leaves  in- 
side of  ten  minutes.  My  business  here  is  over." 


XX 

"THE  COLONEL'S  OWN" 

Words  can  not  express  the  tediousness  of  that 
return  journey.  The  affair  which  occupied  all  my 
thoughts  was  as  yet  too  much  enveloped  in  mys- 
tery for  me  to  contemplate  it  with  anything  but 
an  anxious  and  inquiring  mind.  While  I  clung 
with  new  and  persistent  hope  to  the  thread  which 
had  been  put  in  my  hand,  I  was  too  conscious  of 
the  maze  through  which  we  must  yet  pass,  before 
the  light  could  be  reached,  to  feel  that  lightness  of 
spirit  which  in  itself  might  have  lessened  the  hours, 
and  made  bearable  those  days  of  forced  inaction. 
To  beguile  the  way  a  little,  I  made  a  complete 
analysis  of  the  facts  as  they  appeared  to  me  in  the 
light  of  this  latest  bit  of  evidence.  The  result  was 
not  strikingly  encouraging,  yet  I  will  insert  it,  if 
only  in  proof  of  my  diligence  and  the  extreme 
interest  I  experienced  in  each  and  every  stage  of 
this  perplexing  affair.  It  again  took  the  form  of 
a  summary  and  read  as  follows: 

Facts  as  they  now  appear: 


"THE  COLONEL'S  OWN"  283 

1.  The   peremptory   demand    for   an   interview 
which  had  been  delivered  to  Miss  Moore  during  the 
half-hour  preceding  her  marriage  had  come,  not 
from  the  bridegroom  as  I  had  supposed,  but  from 
the  so-called  stranger,  Mr.  Pfeiffer. 

2.  Her  reply  to  this  demand  had  been  an  order 
for  that  gentleman  to  be  seated  in  the  library. 

3.  The  messenger  carrying  this  order  had  been 
met  and  earnestly  talked  with  by  Mr.  Jeffrey  either 
immediately  before  or  immediately  after  the  afore- 
mentioned gentleman  had  been  so  seated. 

4.  Death  reached  Mr.  Pfeiffer  before  the  bride 
did. 

5.  Miss  Moore  remained  in  ignorance  of  this 
catastrophe  till  after  her  marriage,  no  intimation 
of  the  same  having  been  given  her  by  the  few  per- 
sons allowed  to  approach  her  before  she  descended 
to  her  nuptials;  yet  she  was  seen  to  shrink  unac- 
countably when  her  husband's  lips  touched  hers, 
and  when  informed  of  the  dreadful  event  before 
which  she  beheld  all  her  guests  fleeing,  went  from 
the  house  a  changed  woman. 

6.  For  all  this  proof  that  Mr.  Pfeiffer  was  well 
known  to  her,  if  not  to  the  rest  of  the  bridal  party, 
no  acknowledgment  of  this  was  made  by  any  of 
them  then   or   afterward,   nor   any   contradiction 
given  either  by  husband  or  wife  to  the  accepted 
theory  that  this  seeming  stranger  from  the  West 


284  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

had  gone  into  this  fatal  room  of  the  Moores'  to 
gratify  his  own  morbid  curiosity. 

7.  On  the  contrary,  an  extraordinary  effort  was 
immediately  made  by  Mr.  Jeffrey  to  rid  himself  of 
the  only  witnesses  who  could  tell  the  truth  concern- 
ing those  fatal  ten  minutes;  but  this  brought  no 
peace  to  the  miserable  wife,  who  never  again  saw 
a  really  happy  moment. 

8.  Extraordinary  efforts  at  concealment  argue 
extraordinary    causes    for    fear.     Fully    to    un- 
derstand   the    circumstances     of    Mrs.    Jeffrey's 
death,  it  would  be  necessary  first  to  know  what  had 
happened  in  the  Moore  house  when  Mr.  Jeffrey 
learned  from  Curly  Jim  that  the  man,  whose  hold 
upon  his  bride  had  been  such  that  he  dared  to  de- 
mand an  interview  with  her  just  as  she  was  on  the 
point  of  descending  to  her  nuptials,  had  been  seat- 
ed, or  was  about  to  be  seated,  in  the  room  where 
death  had  once  held  its  court  and  might  easily  be 
persuaded  to  hold  court  again. 

This  was  the  limit  of  my  conclusions.  I  could 
get  no  further,  and  awaited  my  arrival  in  Wash- 
ington with  the  greatest  impatience.  But  once 
there,  and  the  responsibility  of  this  new  inquiry 
shifted  to  broader  shoulders  than  my  own,  I  was 
greatly  surprised  and  as  deeply  chagrined  to  ob- 
serve the  whole  affair  lag  unaccountably  and  to 
note  that,  in  spite  of  my  so-called  important  dis- 


"THE  COLONEL'S  OWN"  285 

coveries,  the  prosecution  continued  working  up  the 
case  against  Miss  Tuttle  in  manifest  intention  of 
presenting  it  to  the  grand  jury  at  its  fall  sitting. 

Whether  Durbin  was  to  blame  for  this  I  could 
not  say.  Certainly  his  look  was  more  or  less  quiz- 
zical when  next  we  met,  and  this  nettled  me  so  that 
I  at  once  came  to  the  determination  that  whatever 
was  in  his  mind,  or  in  the  minds  of  the  men  whose 
counsels  he  undoubtedly  shared,  I  was  going  to 
make  one  more  great  effort  on  my  own  account; 
not  to  solve  the  main  mystery,  which  had  passed 
out  of  my  hands,  but  to  reach  the  hidden  cause  of 
the  equally  unexplained  deaths  which  had  occurred 
from  time  to  time  at  the  library  fireplace. 

For  nothing  could  now  persuade  me  that  the  two 
mysteries  were  not  indissolubly  connected,  or  that 
the  elucidation  of  the  one  would  not  lead  to  the 
elucidation  of  the  other. 

To  be  sure,  it  was  well  accepted  at  headquarters 
that  all  possible  attempts  had  been  made  in  this 
direction  and  with  nothing  but  failure  as  a  result. 
The  floor,  the  hearth,  the  chimney,  and,  above  all, 
the  old  settle,  had  been  thoroughly  searched.  But 
to  no  avail.  The  secret  had  not  been  reached  and 
had  almost  come  to  be  looked  upon  as  insolvable. 

But  I  was  not  one  to  be  affected  by  other  men's 
failures.  The  encouragement  afforded  me  by  my 
late  discoveries  was  such  that  I  felt  confident  that 


286  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

nothing  could  hinder  my  success  save  the  neces- 
sity of  completely  pulling  down  the  house.  Be- 
sides, all  investigation  had  hitherto  started,  if  it 
had  not  ended,  in  the  library.  I  was  resolved 
to  begin  work  in  quite  a  different  spot.  I  had  not 
forgotten  the  sensations  I  had  experienced  in  the 
southwest  chamber. 

During  my  absence  this  house  had  been  released 
from  surveillance.  But  the  major  still  held  the 
keys  and  I  had  no  difficulty  in  obtaining  them.  The 
next  thing  was  to  escape  its  owner's  vigilance. 
This  I  managed  to  do  through  the  assistance  of 
Jinny,  and  when  midnight  came  and  all  lights  went 
out  in  the  opposite  cottage  I  entered  boldly  upon 
the  scene. 

As  before,  I  went  first  of  all  to  the  library.  It 
was  important  to  know  at  the  outset  that  this  room 
was  in  its  normal  condition.  But  this  was  not  my 
only  reason  for  prefacing  my  new  efforts  by  a  visit 
to  this  scene  of  death  and  mysterious  horror.  I 
had  another,  so  seemingly  puerile,  that  I  almost 
hesitate  to  mention  it  and  would  not  if  the  sequel 
warranted  its  omission. 

I  wished  to  make  certain  that  I  had  exhausted 
every  suspected,  as  well  as  every  known  clue,  to 
the  information  I  sought.  In  my  long  journey 
home  and  the  hours  of  thought  it  had  forced 
upon  me,  I  had  more  than  once  been  visited  by 


"THE  COLONEL'S  OWN"  287 

flitting  visions  of  things  seen  in  this  old  house 
and  afterward  nearly  forgotten.  Among  these 
was  the  book  which  on  that  first  night  of  hurried 
search  had  given  proofs  of  being  in  some  one's 
hand  within  a  very  short  period.  The  attention 
I  had  given  it  at  a  moment  of  such  haste  was 
necessarily  cursory,  and  when  later  a  second  op- 
portunity was  granted  me  of  looking  into  it  again, 
I  had  allowed  a  very  slight  obstacle  to  deter 
me.  This  was  a  mistake  I  was  anxious  to  rectify. 
Anything  which  had  been  touched  with  purpose 
at  or  near  the  time  of  so  mysterious  a  tragedy, — 
and  the  position  of  this  book  on  a  shelf  so  high 
that  a  chair  was  needed  to  reach  it  proved  that  it 
had  been  sought  and  touched  with  purpose, — 
held  out  the  promise  of  a  clue  which  one  on  so 
blind  a  trail  as  myself  could  not  afford  to  ignore. 

But  when  I  had  taken  the  book  down  and  read 
again  its  totally  uninteresting  and  unsuggestive 
title  and,  by  another  reference  to  its  dim  and  faded 
leaves,  found  that  my  memory  had  not  played  me 
false  and  that  it  contained  nothing  but  stupid  and 
wholly  irrelevant  statistics,  my  confidence  in  it 
as  a  possible  aid  in  the  work  I  had  in  hand  departed 
just  as  it  had  on  the  previous  occasion.  I  was 
about  to  put  it  back  on  the  shelf,  when  I  bethought 
me  of  running  my  hand  in  behind  the  two  books 
between  which  it  had  stood.  Ah !  that  was  it !  An- 


288  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

other  book  lay  flat  against  the  wall  at  the  back  of 
the  shelf;  and  when,  by  the  removal  of  those  in 
front  I  was  enabled  to  draw  this  book  out,  I  soon 
saw  why  it  had  been  relegated  to  such  a  remote 
place  of  concealment  on  the  shelves  of  the  Moore 
library. 

It  was  a  collection  of  obscure  memoirs  written 
by  an  English  woman,  but  an  English  woman  who 
had  been  in  America  during  the  early  part  of  the 
century,  and  who  had  been  brought  more  or  less 
into  contact  with  the  mysteries  connected  with  the 
Moore  house  in  Washington.  Several  passages 
were  marked,  one  particularly,  by  a  heavy  pencil- 
line  running  the  length  of  the  margin.  As  the 
name  of  Moore  was  freely  scattered  through  these 
passages  as  well  as  through  two  or  three  faded 
newspaper  clippings  which  I  discovered  pasted  on 
the  inside  cover,  I  lost  no  time  in  setting  about 
their  perusal. 

The  following  extracts  are  from  the  book  itself, 
taken  in  the  order  in  which  I  found  them  marked: 

"It  was  about  this  time  that  I  spent  a  week  in 
the  Moore  house ;  that  grand  and  historic  structure 
concerning  which  and  its  occupants  so  many  curi- 
ous rumors  are  afloat.  I  knew  nothing  then  of  its 
discreditable  fame;  but  from  the  first  moment  of 


"THE  COLONEL'S  OWN"  289 

my  entrance  into  its  ample  and  well  lighted  halls  I 
experienced  a  sensation  which  I  will  not  call  dread, 
but  which  certainly  was  far  from  being  the  impulse 
of  pure  delight  which  the  graciousness  of  my 
hostess  and  the  imposing  character  of  the  place 
itself  were  calculated  to  produce.  This  emotion 
was  but  transitory,  vanishing,  as  was  natural,  in 
the  excitement  of  my  welcome  and  the  extraor- 
dinary interest  I  took  in  Callista  Moore,  who  in 
those  days  was  a  most  fascinating  little  body. 
Small  to  the  point  of  appearing  diminutive,  and 
lacking  all  assertion  in  manner  and  bearing,  she 
was  nevertheless  such  a  lady  that  she  easily  domi- 
nated all  who  approached  her,  and  produced, 
quite  against  her  will  I  am  sure,  an  impression 
of  aloofness  seasoned  with  kindness,  which  made 
her  a  most  surprising  and  entertaining  study  to 
the  analytic  observer.  Her  position  as  nominal 
mistress  of  an  establishment  already  accounted 
one  of  the  finest  in  Washington, — the  real  owner, 
Reuben  Moore,  preferring  to  live  abroad  with 
his  French  wife, — gave  to  her  least  action  an  im- 
portance which  her  shy,  if  not  appealing  looks, 
and  a  certain  strained  expression  most  difficult  to 
characterize,  vainly  attempted  to  contradict.  I 
could  not  understand  her,  and  soon  gave  up  the 
attempt;  but  my  admiration  held  firm,  and  by  the 


290  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

time  the  evening  was  half  over  I  was  her  obedient 
slave.  I  think  from  what  I  know  of  her  now  that 
she  would  have  preferred  to  be  mine. 

"I  was  put  to  sleep  in  a  great  chamber  which  I 
afterward  heard  called  'The  Colonel's  Own.'  It 
was  very  grand  and  had  a  great  bed  in  it  almost 
royal  in  its  size  and  splendor.  I  believe  that  I 
shrank  quite  unaccountably  from  this  imposing 
piece  of  furniture  when  I  first  looked  at  it;  it 
seemed  so  big  and  so  out  of  proportion  to  my  slim 
little  body.  But  admonished  by  the  look  which  I 
surprised  on  Mistress  Callista's  high-bred  face,  I 
quickly  recalled  an  expression  so  unsuited  to  my 
position  as  guest,  and,  with  a  gush  of  well-simu- 
lated rapture,  began  to  expatiate  upon  the  inter- 
esting characteristics  of  the  room,  and  express  my- 
self as  delighted  at  the  prospect  of  sleeping  there. 

"Instantly  the  nervous  look  left  her,  and,  with 
the  quiet  remark,  'It  was  my  father's  room,'  she 
set  down  the  candles  with  which  both  her  hands 
were  burdened,  and  gave  me  a  kiss  so  warm  and 
surcharged  with  feeling  that  it  sufficed  to  keep  me 
happy  and  comfortable  for  a  half-hour  or  more 
after  she  passed  out. 

"I  had  thought  myself  a  very  sleepy  girl,  but 
when,  after  a  somewhat  lengthened  brooding  over 
the  dying  embers  in  the  open  fireplace,  I  lay  down 
behind  the  curtains  of  the  huge  bed,  I  found  my- 


"THE  COLONEL'S  OWN"  291 

self  as  far  from  sleep  as  I  had  ever  been  in  my 
whole  life. 

"And  I  did  not  recover  from  this  condition  for 
the  entire  night.  For  hours  I  tossed  from  one  side 
of  the  bed  to  the  other  in  my  efforts  to  avoid  the 
persistent  eyes  of  a  scarcely-to-be-perceived  draw- 
ing facing  me  from  the  opposite  wall.  It  had  no 
merit  as  a  picture,  this  drawing,  but  seen  as  it  was 
under  the  rays  of  a  gibbous  moon  looking  in 
through  the  half-open  shutter,  it  exercised  upon 
me  a  spell  such  as  I  can  not  describe  and  hope 
never  again  to  experience.  Finally  I  rose  and 
pulled  the  curtains  violently  together  across  the 
foot  of  the  bed.  This  shut  out  the  picture ;  but  I 
found  it  worse  to  imagine  it  there  with  its  haunt- 
ing eyes  peering  at  me  through  the  intervening 
folds  of  heavy  damask  than  to  confront  it  openly ; 
so  I  pushed  the  curtains  back  again,  only  to  rise 
a  half-hour  later  and  twitch  them  desperately  to- 
gether once  more. 

"I  fidgeted  and  worried  so  that  night  that  I 
must  have  looked  quite  pale  when  my  attentive 
hostess  met  me  at  the  head  of  the  stairs  the  next 
morning.  For  her  hand  shook  quite  perceptibly 
as  she  grasped  mine,  and  her  voice  was  pitched 
in  no  natural  key  as  she  inquired  how  I  had  slept. 
I  replied,  as  truth,  if  not  courtesy,  demanded,  'Not 
as  well  as  usual,'  whereupon  her  eyes  fell  and  she 


292  THE  FILIGREE  BALL 

remarked  quite  hurriedly,  'I  am  so  sorry ;  you  shall 
have  another  room  to-night,'  adding,  in  what  ap- 
peared to  be  an  unconscious  whisper:  'There  is 
no  use ;  all  feel  it ;  even  the  young  and  the  gay ;' 
then  aloud  and  with  irrepressible  anxiety:  'You 
didn't  see  anything,  dear?' 

"  'No !'  I  protested  in  suddenly  awakened  dis- 
may; 'only  the  strange  eyes  of  that  queer  draw- 
ing peering  at  me  through  the  curtains  of  my  bed. 
Is  it — is  it  a  haunted  room?' 

"Her  look  was  a  shocked  one,  her  protest  quite 
vehement.  'Oh,  no!  No  one  has  ever  witnessed 
anything  like  a  ghost  there,  but  every  one  finds  it 
impossible  to  sleep  in  that  bed  or  even  in  the  room. 
I  do  not  know  why,  unless  it  is  that  my  father 
spent  so  many  weary  years  of  incessant  wakeful- 
ness  inside  its  walls.' 

"  'And  did  he  die  in  that  bed?'  I  asked. 

"She  gave  a  startled  shiver,  and  drew  me  hur- 
riedly downstairs.  As  we  paused  at  the  foot,  she 
pressed  my  hand  and  whispered: 

"  'Yes ;  at  night ;  with  the  full  of  the  moon  upon 
him.' 

"I  answered  her  look  with  one  she  probably  un- 
derstood as  little  as  I  did  hers.  I  had  heard  of  this 
father  of  hers.  He  had  been  a  terrible  old  man 
and  had  left  a  terrible  memory  behind  him. 

"The  next  day  my  room  was  changed  according 


"THE  COLONEL'S  OWN"  293 

to  her  promise,  but  in  the  light  of  the  charges  I 
have  since  heard  uttered  against  that  house  and  the 
family  who  inhabit  it,  I  am  glad  that  I  spent  one 
night  in  what,  if  it  was  not  a  haunted  chamber,  had 
certainly  a  very  thrilling  effect  upon  its  occu- 
pants." 

Second  passage;  the  italics  showing  where  it 
was  most  heavily  marked. 

"The  house  contained  another  room  as  interest- 
ing as  the  one  I  have  already  mentioned.  It  went 
by  the  name  of  the  library  and  its  walls  were  heav- 
ily lined  with  books;  but  the  family  never  sat 
there,  nor  was  I  ever  fortunate  enough  to  see  it 
with  its  doors  unclosed  except  on  the  occasion  of 
the  grand  reception  Mistress  Callista  gave  in  my 
honor.  I  have  a  fancy  for  big  rooms  and  more 
than  once  urged  my  hostess  to  tell  me  why  this  one 
stood  neglected.  But  the  lady  was  not  commu- 
nicative on  this  topic  and  it  was  from  another 
member  of  the  household  I  learned  that  its  pre- 
cincts had  been  forever  clouded  by  the  unexpected 
death  within  them  of  one  of  her  father's  friends,  a 
noted  army  officer. 

"Why  this  should  have  occasioned  a  permanent 
disuse  of  the  spot  I  could  not  understand,  and  as 
every  one  who  conversed  on  this  topic  invariably 


294  THE  FILIGREE  BALL 

gave  the  impression  of  saying  less  than  the  sub- 
ject demanded,  my  curiosity  soon  became  too  much 
for  me  and  I  attacked  Miss  Callista  once  again  in 
regard  to  it.  She  gave  me  a  quick  smile,  for  she 
was  always  amiable,  but  shook  her  head  and  intro- 
duced another  topic.  But  one  night  when  the  wind 
was  howling  in  the  chimneys  and  the  sense  of 
loneliness  was  even  greater  than  usual  in  the  great 
house,  we  drew  together  on  the  rug  in  front  of 
my  bedroom  fire,  and,  as  the  embers  burned  down 
to  ashes  before  us,  Miss  Callista  became  more  com- 
municative. 

"Her  heart  was  heavy,  she  told  me;  had  been 
heavy  for  years.  Perhaps  some  ray  of  comfort 
would  reach  her  if  she  took  a  friend  into  her  con- 
fidence. God  knew  that  she  needed  one,  especially 
on  nights  like  this,  when  the  wind  woke  echoes  all 
over  the  house  and  it  was  hard  to  tell  which  most 
to  fear,  the  sounds  which  came  from  no  one  knew 
where,  or  the  silence  which  settled  after. 

"She  trembled  as  she  said  this,  and  instinctively 
drew  nearer  my  side  so  that  our  heads  almost 
touched  over  the  flickering  flame  from  whose  heat 
and  light  we  sought  courage.  She  seemed  to  feel 
grateful  for  this  contact,  and  the  next  minute, 
flinging  all  her  scruples  to  the  wind,  she  began  a 
relation  of  events  which  more  or  less  answered  my 
late  unwelcome  queries, 


"THE  COLONEL'S  OWN"  295 

"The  death  in  the  library,  about  which  her  most 
perplexing  memory  hung,  took  place  when  she 
was  a  child  and  her  father  held  that  high  govern- 
mental position  which  has  reflected  so  much  credit 
upon  the  family.  Her  father  and  the  man  who 
thus  perished  had  been  intimate  friends.  They 
had  fought  together  in  the  War  of  1812  and  re- 
ceived the  same  distinguishing  marks  of  presidential 
approval  afterward.  They  were  both  members  of 
an  important  commission  which  brought  them  into 
diplomatic  relations  with  England.  It  was  while 
serving  on  this  commission  that  the  sudden  break 
occurred  which  ended  all  intimate  relations  between 
them,  and  created  a  change  in  her  father  that 
was  equally  remarked  at  home  and  abroad.  What 
occasioned  this  break  no  one  knew.  Whether  his 
great  ambition  had  received  some  check  through  the 
jealousy  of  this  so-called  friend — a  supposition 
which  did  not  seem  possible,  as  he  rose  rapidly  after 
this — or  on  account  of  other  causes  darkly  hinted 
at  by  his  contemporaries,  but  never  breaking  into 
open  gossip,  he  was  never  the  same  man  after- 
wards. His  children,  who  used  to  rush  with  effu- 
sion to  greet  him,  now  shrank  into  corners  at 
his  step,  or  slid  behind  half  open  doors,  whence 
they  peered  with  fearful  interest  at  his  tall  figure, 
pacing  in  moody  silence  the  halls  of  his  ancestral 
home,  or  sitting  with  frowning  brows  over  the 


296  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

embers  dying  away  on  the  great  hearthstone  of  his 
famous  library. 

"Their  mother,  who  was  an  invalid,  did  not  share 
these  terrors.  The  father  was  ever  tender  of  her, 
and  the  only  smile  they  ever  saw  on  his  face  came 
with  his  entrance  into  her  darkened  room. 

"Such  were  Callista  Moore's  first  memories. 
Those  which  followed  were  more  definite  and  much 
more  startling.  President  Jackson,  who  had  a  high 
opinion  of  her  father's  ability,  advanced  him  rap- 
idly. Finally  a  position  was  given  him  which  raised 
him  into  national  prominence.  As  this  had  been  the 
goal  of  his  ambition  for  years,  he  was  much  grati- 
fied by  this  appointment,  and  though  his  smiles 
came  no  more  frequently,  his  frowns  lightened,  and 
from  being  positively  threatening,  became  simply 
morose. 

"Why  this  moroseness  should  have  sharpened 
into  menace  after  an  unexpected  visit  from  his  once 
dear,  but  long  estranged  companion-in-arms,  his 
daughter,  even  after  long  years  of  constant  brood- 
ing upon  this  subject,  dares  not  decide.  If  she 
could  she  might  be  happier. 

"The  general  was  a  kindly  man,  sharp  of  face 
and  of  a  tall  thin  figure,  but  with  an  eye  to  draw 
children  and  make  them  happy  with  a  look.  But 
his  effect  on  the  father  was  different.  From  the 
moment  the  two  met  in  the  great  hall  below,  the 


"THE  COLONEL'S  OWN"  297 

temper  of  the  host  betrayed  how  little  he  welcomed 
this  guest.  He  did  not  fail  in  courtesy — the  Moores 
are  always  gentlemen — but  it  was  a  hard  courtesy, 
which  cut  while  it  flattered.  The  two  children, 
shrinking  from  its  edge  without  knowing  what  it 
was  that  hurt  them,  slunk  to  covert,  and  from  be- 
hind the  two  pillars  which  mark  the  entrance  to 
the  library,  watched  the  two  men  as  they  walked 
up  and  down  the  halls  discussing  the  merits  of 
this  and  that  detail  of  the  freshly  furnished  man- 
sion. These  two  innocent,  but  eager  spies,  whom 
fear  rather  than  curiosity  held  in  hiding,  even 
caught  some  of  the  sentences  which  passed  between 
the  so-called  friends;  and  though  these  necessarily 
conveyed  but  little  meaning  to  their  childish  minds, 
the  words  forming  them  were  never  forgotten, 
as  witness  these  phrases  confided  to  me  by  Mistress 
Callista  twenty-five  years  afterward. 

"  'You  have  much  that  most  men  lack,'  remarked 
the  general,  as  they  paused  to  admire  some  little 
specimen  of  Italian  art  which  had  been  lately  re- 
ceived from  Genoa.  'You  have  money — too  much 
money,  Moore,  by  an  amount  I  might  easily  name — 
a  home  which  some  might  call  palatial,  a  lovely,  if 
not  altogether  healthy  wife,  two  fine  children,  and 
all  the  honor  which  a  man  in  a  commonwealth  like 
this  should  ask  for.  Drop  politics.' 

"  'Politics  are  my  life,'  was  the  cold  response, 


298  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

'To  bid  me  drop  them  is  to  bid  me  commit  sui- 
cide.' Then,  as  an  afterthought  to  which  a  mo- 
ment of  intervening  silence  added  emphasis,  'And 
for  you  to  drive  me  from  them  would  be  an  act 
little  short  of  murder.' 

"  'Justice  dealt  upon  a  traitor  is  not  murder,' 
was  the  stern  and  unyielding  reply.  'By  one  black 
deed  of  treacherous  barter  and  sale,  of  which  none 
of  your  countrymen  is  cognizant  but  myself,  you 
have  forfeited  the  confidence  of  this  government. 
Were  I,  who  so  unhappily  surprised  your  secret, 
to  allow  you  to  continue  in  your  present  place  of 
trust,  I  myself  would  be  a  traitor  to  the  republic 
for  which  I  have  fought  and  for  which  I  am  ready 
to  die.  That  is  why  I  ask  you  to  resign  before — ' 

"The  two  children  did  not  catch  the  threat  latent 
in  that  last  word,  but  they  realized  the  force  of  it 
from  their  father's  look  and  were  surprised  when  he 
quietly  said: 

"  'You  declare  yourself  to  be  the  only  man  on  the 
commission  who  is  acquainted  with  the  facts  you 
are  pleased  to  style  traitorous?' 

"The  general's  lips  curled.  'Have  I  not  said?' 
he  asked. 

"Something  in  this  stern  honesty  seemed  to  affect 
the  father.  His  face  turned  away  and  it  was  the 
other's  voice  which  was  next  heard.  A  change  had 


"THE  COLONEL'S  OWN"  299 

taken  place  in  it  and  it  sounded  almost  mellow  as 
it  gave  form  to  these  words : 

"  'Alpheus,  we  have  been  friends.  You  shall 
have  two  weeks  in  which  to  think  over  my  de- 
mand and  decide.  If  at  the  end  of  that  time  you 
have  not  returned  to  domestic  life  you  may  expect 
another  visit  from  me  which  can  not  fail  of  con- 
sequences. You  know  my  temper  when  roused. 
Do  not  force  me  into  a  position  which  will  cause 
us  both  endless  regret.' 

"Perhaps  the  father  answered;  perhaps  he  did 
not.  The  children  heard  nothing  further,  but  they 
witnessed  the  gloom  with  which  he  rode  away  to 
the  White  House  the  next  day.  Remembering  the 
general's  threat,  they  imagined  in  thair  childish 
hearts  that  their  father  had  gone  to  give  up  his 
post  and  newly  acquired  honors.  But  he  returned 
at  night  without  having  done  so,  and  from  that  day 
on  carried  his  head  higher  and  showed  himself  more 
and  more  the  master,  both  at  home  and  abroad. 

"But  he  was  restless,  very  restless,  and  possibly 
to  allay  a  great  mental  uneasiness,  he  began  hav- 
ing some  changes  made  in  the  house ;  changes  which 
occupied  much  of  his  time  and  with  which  he  never 
seemed  satisfied.  Men  working  one  day  were  dis- 
missed the  next  and  others  called  in  until  this  work 
and  everything  else  was  interrupted  by  the  return 


300  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

of  his  late  unwelcome  guest,  who  kept  his  appoint- 
ment to  a  day. 

"At  this  point  in  her  narrative  Mistress  Callista's 
voice  fell  and  the  flame  which  had  thrown  a  partial 
light  on  her  countenance  died  down  until  I  could 
but  faintly  discern  the  secretly  inquiring  look  with 
which  she  watched  me  as  she  went  on  to  say : 

"  'Reuben  and  I,' — Reuben  was  her  brother, — 
'were  posted  in  the  dark  corner  under  the  stairs 
when  my  father  met  the  general  at  the  door.  We 
had  expected  to  hear  high  words,  or  some  explosion 
of  bitter  feeling  between  them,  and  hardly  knew 
whether  to  be  glad  or  sorry  when  our  father  wel- 
comed his  guest  with  the  same  elaborate  bow 
we  once  saw  him  make  to  the  president  in  the 
grounds  of  the  White  House.  Nor  could  we  under- 
stand what  followed.  We  were  summoned  in  to 
supper.  Our  mother  was  there — a  great  event  in 
those  days — and  toasts  were  drunk  and  our  father 
proposed  one  to  the  general's  health.  This  Reuben 
thought  was  an  open  signal  of  peace,  and  turned 
upon  me  his  great  round  eyes  in  surprise;  but  I, 
who  was  old  enough  to  notice  that  this  toast  was 
not  responded  to  and  that  the  general  did  not  even 
touch  his  lips  to  the  glass  he  had  lifted  in  com- 
pliment to  our  mother,  who  had  lifted  hers,  felt 
that  there  was  something  terrifying  rather  than 
reassuring  in  this  attempt  at  good  fellowship. 


"THE  COLONEL'S  OWN"  301 

Though  unable  to  reason  over  it  at  the  time,  I 
have  often  done  so  since,  and  my  father's  attitude 
and  look  as  he  faced  this  strange  guest  has  dwelt 
so  persistently  in  my  memory  that  scarcely  a  year 
passes  without  the  scene  coming  up  in  my  dreams 
with  its  accompanying  emotions  of  fear  and  per- 
plexity. For — perhaps  you  know  the  story — that 
hour  was  the  general's  last.  He  died  before  leav- 
ing the  house ;  died  in  that  same  dark  library  con- 
cerning which  you  have  asked  so  many  questions. 

"  'I  remember  the  circumstances  well,  how  well ! 
down  to  each  and  every  detail.  Our  mother  had 
gone  back  to  her  room,  and  the  general  and  my 
father,  who  did  not  linger  over  their  wine — why 
should  they,  when  the  general  would  not  drink? — 
had  withdrawn  to  the  library  at  the  suggestion 
of  the  general,  whose  last  words  are  yet  lingering 
in  my  ears. 

"  'The  time  has  come  for  our  little  talk,'  said 
he.  'Your  reception  augurs — ' 

"  'You  do  not  look  well,'  my  father  here  broke 
in,  in  what  seemed  an  unnaturally  loud  voice.  'Come 
and  sit  down — ' 

"  'Here  the  door  closed. 

"  'We  had  hung  about  this  door,  curious  children 
that  we  were,  in  hopes  of  catching  a  glimpse  of 
the  queer  new  settle  which  had  been  put  into  place 
that  day.  But  we  scampered  away  at  this,  and 


302  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

were  playing  in  and  out  of  the  halls  when  the  li- 
brary door  again  opened  and  my  father  came  out. 

"  'Where's  Sambo?'  he  cried.  'Tell  him  to  carry 
a  glass  of  wine  in  to  the  general.  I  do  not  like  his 
looks.  I  am  going  upstairs  for  some  medicine.' 
This  he  whispered  in  choked  tones  as  he  set  foot 
on  the  stairs.  Why  I  remember  it  I  do  not  know, 
for  Reuben,  who  was  standing  where  he  could 
look  into  the  library  when  our  father  came  out 
and  saw  the  settle  and  the  general  sitting  at  one 
end  of  it,  was  chattering  about  it  in  my  ear  at  the 
very  moment  our  father  was  giving  his  orders. 

"  'Reuben  is  a  man  now,  and  I  have  asked  him 
more  than  once  since  then  how  the  general  looked  at 
that  critical  instant.  It  is  important  to  me,  very, 
very  important,  and  to  him,  too,  now  that  he  has 
come  to  know  a  man's  passions  and  temptations. 
But  he  will  never  tell  me,  never  relieve  my  mind^ 
and  I  can  only  hope  that  there  were  real  signs  of 
illness  on  the  general's  brow ;  for  then  I  could  feel 
that  all  had  been  right  and  that  his  death  was  the 
natural  result  of  the  great  distress  he  felt  at  oppos- 
ing my  father  in  the  one  desire  of  his  heart.  That 
glimpse  which  Reuben  had  of  him  before  he  fell 
has  always  struck  me  with  strange  pathos.  A  little 
child  looking  in  upon  a  man,  who,  for  all  his  ap- 
parent health,  will  in  another  moment  be  in  eter- 


"THE  COLONEL'S  OWN"  303 

nity — I  do  not  wonder  he  does  not  like  to  talk  of  it, 
and  yet — 

"  'It  was  Sambo  who  came  upon  the  general  first. 
Our  father  had  not  yet  descended.  When  he  did, 
it  wag  with  loud  cries  and  piteous  ejaculations. 
Word  had  gone  upstairs  and  surprised  him  in  the 
room  with  my  mother.  I  recollect  wondering  in  all 
childish  simplicity  why  he  wrung  his  hands  so  over 
the  death  of  a  man  he  so  hated  and  feared.  Nor 
was  it  till  years  had  passed  and  our  mother  had  been 
laid  in  the  grave  and  the  house  had  settled  into  a 
gloom  too  heavy  and  somber  for  Reuben  to  endure, 
that  I  recognized  in  my  father  the  signs  of  a  settled 
remorse.  These  I  endeavored  to  account  for  by  the 
fact  that  he  had  been  saved  from  what  he  looked 
upon  as  political  death  by  the  sudden  but  oppor- 
tune decease  of  his  best  friend.  This  caused  a 
shock  to  his  feelings  which  had  unnerved  him  for 
life.  Don't  you  think  this  the  true  explanation 
of  his  invariably  moody  brow  and  the  great  dis- 
taste he  always  showed  for  this  same  library? 
Though  he  would  live  in  no  other  house,  he  would 
not  enter  that  room  nor  look  at  the  gloomy  settle 
from  which  the  general  had  fallen  to  his  death. 
The  place  was  virtually  tabooed,  and  though,  as  the 
necessity  arose,  it  was  opened  from  time  to  time 
for  great  festivities,  the  shadow  it  had  acquired 


304  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

never  left  it  and  my  father  hated  its  very  door 
until  he  died.  Is  it  not  natural  that  his  daughter 
should  share  this  feeling?' 

"It  was,  and  I  said  so ;  but  I  would  say  no  more, 
though  she  cast  me  little  appealing  looks  which  ac- 
quired an  eery  significance  from  the  pressure  of 
her  small  fingers  on  my  arm  and  the  wailing  sound 
of  the  wind  which  at  that  moment  blew  down  in  one 
gust,  scattering  the  embers  and  filling  the  house 
with  banshee  calls.  I  simply  kissed  her  and  advised 
her  to  go  back  with  me  to  England  and  forget  this 
old  house  and  all  its  miserable  memories.  For  that 
was  the  sum  of  the  comfort  at  my  poor  command. 
When,  after  another  restless  night,  I  crept  down 
in  the  early  morning  to  peer  into  the  dim  and  un- 
used room  whose  story  I  had  at  last  learned,  I  can 
not  say  but  that  I  half  expected  to  behold  the  mea- 
ger ghost  of  the  unfortunate  general  rise  from 
the  cushions  of  the  prodigious  bench  which  still 
kept  its  mysterious  watch  over  the  deserted  hearth- 
stone." 

So  much  for  the  passages  culled  from  the  book 
itself.  The  newspaper  excerpts,  to  which  I  next 
turned,  bore  a  much  later  date,  and  read  as  fol- 
lows: 

"A  strange  coincidence  marks  the  death  of  Al- 


"THE  COLONEL'S  OWN"  305 

bert  Moore  in  his  brother's  house  yesterday.  He 
was  discovered  lying  with  his  head  on  the  identical 
spot  where  General  Lloyd  fell  forty  years  before. 
It  is  said  that  this  sudden  demise  of  a  man  hitherto 
regarded  as  a  model  of  physical  strength  and  en- 
durance was  preceded  by  a  violent  altercation  with 
his  elder  brother.  If  this  is  so,  the  excitement  inci- 
dent upon  such  a  break  in  their  usually  pleasant 
relations  may  account  for  his  sudden  death.  Ed- 
ward Moore,  who,  unfortunately,  was  out  of  the 
room  when  his  brother  succumbed — some  say  that 
he  was  in  his  grandfather's  room  above — was 
greatly  unnerved  by  this  unexpected  end  to  what 
was  probably  merely  a  temporary  quarrel,  and  now 
lies  in  a  critical  condition. 

"The  relations  between  him  and  the  deceased 
Albert  have  always  been  of  the  most  amicable  char- 
acter until  they  unfortunately  fell  in  love  with  the 
same  woman." 

Attached  to  this  was  another  slip,  apparently 
from  a  later  paper. 

"The  quarrel  between  the  two  brothers  Moore, 
just  prior  to  the  younger  one's  death,  turns  out  to 
have  been  of  a  more  serious  nature  than  was  first 
supposed.  It  has  since  leaked  out  that  an  actual 
duel  was  fought  at  that  time  between  these  two 


306  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

on  the  floor  of  the  old  library;  and  that  in  this 
duel  the  elder  one  was  wounded.  Some  even  go  so 
far  as  to  affirm  that  the  lady's  hand  was  to  be  the 
reward  of  him  who  drew  the  first  blood;  it  is  no 
longer  denied  that  the  room  was  in  great  disorder 
when  the  servants  first  rushed  in  at  the  sound  he 
made  in  falling.  Everything  movable  had  been 
pushed  back  against  the  wall  and  an  open  space 
cleared,  in  the  center  of  which  could  be  seen  one 
drop  of  blood.  What  is  certain  is  that  Mr.  Moore 
is  held  to  the  house  by  something  even  more  serious 
than  his  deep  grief,  and  that  the  young  lady  who 
was  the  object  of  this  fatal  dispute  has  left  the 
city." 

Pasted  under  this  was  the  following  short  an- 
nouncement : 

"Married  on  the  twenty-first  of  January,  at  the 
American  consulate  in  Rome,  Italy,  Edward 
Moore,  of  Washington,  D.  C.,  United  States  of 
America,  to  Antoinette  Sloan,  daughter  of  Joseph 
Dewitt  Sloan,  also  of  that  city." 

With  this  notice  my  interest  in  the  book  ceased 
and  I  prepared  to  step  down  from  the  chair  on 
which  I  had  remained  standing  during  the  reading 
of  the  above  passages. 


"THE  COLONEL'S  OWN"  307 

As  I  did  so  I  spied  a  slip  of  paper  lying  on  the 
floor  at  my  feet.  As  it  had  not  been  there  ten  min- 
utes before  there  could  be  little  doubt  that  it  had 
slipped  from  the  book  whose  leaves  I  had  been  turn- 
ing over  so  rapidly.  Hastening  to  recover  it,  I 
found  it  to  be  a  sheet  of  ordinary  note  paper  part- 
ly inscribed  with  words  in  a  neat  and  distinctive 
handwriting.  This  was  a  great  find,  for  the 
paper  was  fresh  and  the  handwriting  one  which 
could  be  readily  identified.  What  I  saw  written 
there  was  still  more  remarkable.  It  had  the  look 
of  some  of  the  memoranda  I  had  myself  drawn  up 
during  the  most  perplexing  moments  of  this 
strange  case.  I  transcribe  it  just  as  it  read: 

"We  have  here  two  separate  accounts  of  how 
death  comes  to  those  who  breathe  their  last  on  the 
ancestral  hearthstone  of  the  Moore  house  library. 

"Certain  facts  are  emphasized  in  both: 

"Each  victim  was  alone  when  he  fell. 

"Each  death  was  preceded  by  a  scene  of  alterca- 
tion or  violent  controversy  between  the  victim  and 
the  alleged  master  of  these  premises. 

"In  each  case  the  master  of  the  house  reaped 
some  benefit,  real  or  fancied,  from  the  other's 
death." 

A  curious  set  of  paragraphs.     Some  one  besides 


SOS  THE   FILIGREE    BALL 

myself  was  searching  for  th'e  very  explanation  I 
was  at  that  moment  intent  upon.  I  should  have 
considered  it  the  work  of  our  detectives  if  the  addi- 
tional lines  I  now  came  upon  could  have  been  writ- 
ten by  any  one  but  a  Moore.  But  no  one  of  any 
other  blood  or  associations  could  have  indited  the 
amazing  words  which  followed.  The  only  excuse 
I  could  find  for  them  was  the  difficulty  which  some 
men  feel  in  formulating  their  thoughts  otherwise 
than  with  pen  and  paper,  they  were  so  evidently 
intended  for  the  writer's  eye  and  understanding 
only,  as  witness: 

"Let  me  recall  the  words  my  father  was  uttering 
when  my  brother  rushed  in  upon  us  with  that  ac- 
count of  my  misdeeds  which  changed  all  my  pros- 
pects in  life.  It  was  my  twenty-first  birthday  and 
the  old  man  had  just  informed  me  that  as  the  eldest 
son  I  might  expect  the  house  in  which  we  stood 
to  be  mine  one  day  and  with  it  a  secret  which 
has  been  handed  down  from  father  to  son  ever  since 
the  Moores  rose  to  eminence  in  the  person  of  Col- 
onel Alpheus.  Then  he  noted  that  I  was  now  of  age 
and  immediately  went  on  to  say:  'This  means 
that  you  must  be  told  certain  facts,  without  the 
knowledge  of  which  you  would  be  no  true  Moore. 
These  facts  you  must  hereafter  relate  to  your  son 
or  whoever  may  be  fortunate  enough  to  inherit 


"THE  COLONEL'S  OWN"  309 

from  you.  It  is  the  legacy  which  goes  with  this 
house  and  one  which  no  inheritor  as  yet  has  refused 
either  to  receive  or  to  transmit.  Listen.  You  have 
often  noted  the  gold  filigree  ball  which  I  wear  on 
my  watch-guard.  This  ball  is  the  talisman  of  our 
house,  of  this  house.  If,  in  the  course  of  your  life 
you  find  yourself  in  an  extremity  from  which  no 
issue  seems  possible — mind  the  strictness  of  the  in- 
junction— an  extremity  from  which  no  issue  seems 
possible — (I  have  never  been  in  such  a  case;  the 
gold  filigree  ball  has  never  been  opened  by  me) — 
you  will  take  this  trinket  from  its  chain,  press  upon 
this  portion  of  it  so,  and  use  what  you  will  find 
inside,  in  connection  with — '  Alas!  it  was  at  this 
point  John  Judson  came  rushing  in  and  those  dis- 
closures were  made  which  lost  me  my  father's  regard 
and  gave  to  the  informer  my  rightful  inheritance, 
together  with  the  full  secret  of  \vhich  I  only  got 
a  part.  But  that  part  must  help  me  now  to  the 
whole.  I  have  seen  the  filigree  ball  many  times; 
Veronica  has  it  now.  But  its  contents  have  never 
been  shown  me.  If  I  knew  what  they  were  and  why 
the  master  of  this  secret  always  left  the  library — " 

Here  the  memorandum  ceased  with  a  long  line 
straggling  from  the  letter  y  as  if  the  writer  had 
been  surprised  at  his  task. 

The  effect  upon  me  of  these  remarkable  wor4s 


310  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

was  to  heighten  my  interest  and  raise  me  into  a 
state  of  renewed  hope,  if  not  of  active  expectation. 
Another  mind  than  my  own  had  been  at  work 
along  the  only  groove  which  held  out  any  prom- 
ise of  success,  and  this  mind,  having  at  its  com- 
mand certain  family  traditions,  had  let  me  into  a 
most  valuable  secret.  Another  mind!  Whose 
mind?  That  was  a  question  easily  answered.  But 
one  man  could  have  written  these  words;  the  man 
who  was  thrust  aside  in  early  life  in  favor  of  his 
younger  brother,  and  who  now,  by  the  sudden  death 
of  that  brother's  daughter,  had  come  again  into  his 
inheritance.  Uncle  David,  and  he  only,  was  the 
puzzled  inquirer  whose  self-communings  I  had  just 
read.  This  fact  raised  a  new  problem  for  me  to 
work  upon,  and  I  could  but  ask  when  these  lines 
were  written — before  or  after  Mr.  Pfeiffer's  death 
— and  whether  he  had  ever  succeeded  in  solving  the 
riddle  he  had  suggested,  or  whether  it  was  still  a 
baffling  mystery  to  him.  I  was  so  moved  by  the 
suggestion  conveyed  in  his  final  and  half-finished 
sentence,  that  I  soon  lost  sight  of  these  lesser  in- 
quiries in  the  more  important  one  connected  with 
the  filigree  ball.  For  I  had  seen  this  filigree 
ball.  I  had  even  handled  it.  From  the  de- 
scription given  I  was  very  certain  that  it  had 
been  one  of  the  many  trinkets  I  had  observed 
lying  on  the  dressing  table  when  I  made  my  first 


"THE  COLONEL'S  OWN"  311 

hasty  examination  of  the  room  on  the  evening  of 
Mrs.  Jeffrey's  death.  Why  had  no  premonition  of 
its  importance  as  a  connecting  link  between  these 
tragedies  and  their  mysterious  cause  come  to  me  at 
the  time  when  it  was  within  reach  of  my  hand  ?  It 
was  too  late  now.  It  had  been  swept  away  with  the 
other  loose  objects  littering  the  place,  and  my  op- 
portunity for  pursuing  this  very  promising  investi- 
gation was  gone  for  the  night. 

Yet  it  was  with  a  decided  feeling  of  triumph 
that  I  finally  locked  the  door  of  this  old  mansion 
behind  me.  Certainly  I  had  taken  a  step  forward 
since  my  entrance  there,  to  which  I  had  but  to  add 
another  of  equal  inportance  to  merit  the  attention 
of  the  superintendent  himself. 


XXI 

THE  HEART  OF  THE  PUZZLE. 

The  next  morning  I  swallowed  my  pride  and 
sought  out  Durbin.  He  had  superintended  the  re- 
moval of  Mrs.  Jeffrey's  effects  from  the  southwest 
chamber,  and  should  know,  if  any  one,  where  this 
filigree  ball  was  now  to  be  found.  Doubtless  it 
had  been  returned  with  the  other  things  to  Mr. 
Jeffrey,  and  yet,  who  knows?  Durbin  is  sly  and 
some  inkling  of  its  value  as  a  clue  may  have  en- 
tered his  mind.  If  so,  it  would  be  anywhere  but 
in  Mr.  Jeffrey's  or  Miss  Tuttle's  possession. 

To  test  my  rival's  knowledge  of  and  interest  in 
this  seemingly  trivial  object,  I  stooped  to  what  I 
can  but  consider  a  pardonable  subterfuge.  Greet- 
ing him  in  the  offhand  way  least  likely  to  de- 
velop his  suspicion,  I  told  him  that  I  had  a  great 
idea  in  connection  with  the  Jeffrey  case  and 
that  the  clue  to  it  lay  in  a  little  gold  ball  which 
Mrs.  Jeffrey  sometimes  wore  and  upon  which  she 
set  great  store.  So  far  I  spoke  the  truth.  It 
had  been  given  her  by  some  one — not  Mr.  Jeffrey — 


THE  HEART  OF  THE  PUZZLE     318 

and  I  believed,  though  I  did  not  know,  that  it  con- 
tained a  miniature  portrait  which  it  might  be  to 
our  advantage  to  see. 

I  expected  his  lip  to  curl;  but  for  a  wonder 
it  maintained  its  noncommittal  aspect,  though  I  was 
sure  that  I  caught  a  slight,  very  slight,  gleam  of 
curiosity  lighting  up  for  a  moment  his  calm,  gray 
eye. 

"You  are  on  a  fantastic  trail,"  he  sneered,  and 
that  was  all. 

But  I  had  not  expected  more.  I  had  merely 
wished  to  learn  what  place,  if  any,  this  filigree 
ball  held  in  his  own  suspicions,  and  in  case  he  had 
overlooked  it,  to  jog  his  curiosity  so  that  he  would 
in  some  way  betray  its  whereabouts. 

That,  for  all  its  seeming  inconsequence,  it  did 
hold  some  place  in  his  mind  was  evident  enough  to 
those  who  knew  him ;  but  that  it  was  within  reach  or 
obtainable  by  any  ordinary  means  was  not  so  plain. 
Indeed,  I  very  soon  became  convinced  that  he,  for 
one,  had  no  idea  where  it  was,  or  after  the  sugges- 
tive hint  I  had  given  him  he  would  never  have  wast- 
ed a  half-hour  on  me.  What  was  I  to  do  then  ?  Tell 
my  story  to  the  major  and  depend  on  him  to  push 
the  matter  to  its  proper  conclusion?  "Not  yet," 
whispered  pride.  "Durbin  thinks  you  a  fool.  Wait 
till  you  can  show  your  whole  hand  before  calling 
attention  to  your  cards."  But  it  was  hard  not  to 


314  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

betray  my  excitement  and  to  act  the  fool  they  con- 
sidered me  when  the  boys  twitted  me  about  this 
famous  golden  charm  and  asked  what  great  result 
had  followed  my  night  in  the  Moore  house.  But 
remembering  that  he  who  laughs  last  laughs  best, 
and  that  the  cause  of  mirth  was  not  yet  over  between 
Durbin  and  myself,  I  was  able  to  preserve  an  im- 
passive exterior  even  when  I  came  under  the  major's 
eye.  I  found  myself  amply  repaid  when  one  of 
the  boys  who  had  studiously  avoided  chaffing  me 
dropped  the  following  words  in  my  ear : 

"I  don't  know  what  your  interest  is  in  the  small 
gold  charm  you  were  talking  about,  but  you  have 
done  some  good  work  in  this  case  and  I  don't  mind 
telling  you  what  I  know  about  it.  That  little  gold 
ball  has  caused  the  police  much  trouble.  It  is  on 
the  list  of  effects  found  in  the  room  where  the  can- 
dle was  seen  burning;  but  when  all  these  petty 
belongings  of  Mrs.  Jeffrey's  were  gathered  up  and 
carried  back  to  her  husband,  this  special  one  was 
not  to  be  found  amongst  them.  It  was  lost  in  tran- 
sit, nor  has  it  ever  been  seen  since.  And  who  do 
you  think  it  was  who  called  attention  to  this  loss 
and  demanded  that  the  article  be  found  ?  Not  Mr. 
Jeffrey,  who  seems  to  lay  little  or  no  stress 
upon  it,  but  the  old  man  they  call  Uncle  David. 
He  who,  to  all  appearance,  possessed  no  interest 
in  his  niece's  personal  property,  was  on  hand  the 


THE  HEART  OF  THE  PUZZLE     315 

moment  these  things  were  carried  into  her  husband's 
house,  with  the  express  intention,  it  seems,  of  in- 
quiring for  this  gold  ball,  which  he  declared  to  be  a 
family  heirloom.  As  such  it  belonged  to  him  as 
the  present  holder  of  the  property,  and  to  him 
only.  Attention  being  thus  called  to  it,  it  was 
found  to  be  missing,  and  as  no  one  but  the  police 
seemed  to  be  to  blame  for  its  loss  the  matter 
was  hushed  up  and  would  have  been  regarded 
as  too  insignificant  for  comment,  the  trinket 
being  intrinsically  worthless,  if  Mr.  Moore  had  not 
continued  to  make  such  a  fuss  about  it.  This  ball, 
he  declared,  was  worth  as  much  to  a  Moore  as  all 
the  rest  of  his  property,  which  was  bosh,  you  know ; 
and  the  folly  of  these  assertions  and  the  depth  of 
the  passions  he  displayed  whenever  the  subject  was 
mentioned  have  made  some  of  us  question  if  he  is 
the  innocent  inheritor  he  has  tried  to  make  himself 
out.  At  all  events,  I  know  for  a  certainty  that 
the  district  attorney  holds  his  name  in  reserve,  if 
the  grand  jury  fails  to  bring  in  an  indictment 
against  Miss  Tuttle." 

"The  district  attorney  is  wise,"  I  remarked,  and 
fell  a-thinking. 

Had  this  latent  suspicion  against  Mr.  Moore 
any  solid  foundation?  Was  he  the  guilty  man? 
The  memorandum  I  had  come  across  in  the  book 
which  had  been  lately  pulled  down  from  the  library 


316  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

shelves  showed  that,  notwithstanding  his  testimony 
to  the  contrary,  he  had  been  in  that  house  close 
upon  that  fatal  night,  if  not  on  the  very  night 
itself.  It  also  showed  his  extreme  interest  in  the 
traditions  of  the  family.  But  did  it  show  any- 
thing more?  Had  he  interrupted  his  writing  to 
finish  his  query  in  blood,  and  had  one  of  his  motives 
for  this  crime  been  the  acquisition  of  this  filigree 
ball?  ,  If  so,  why  had  he  left  it  on  the  table  up- 
stairs? A  candle  had  been  lit  in  that  room — could 
it  have  been  by  him  in  his  search  for  this  object? 
It  would  be  a  great  relief  to  believe  so.  What  was 
the  reason  then  that  my  mind  refused  so  emphatic- 
ally to  grasp  this  possibility  and  settle  upon  him 
as  the  murderer  of  Mrs.  Jeffrey?  I  can  not  tell. 
I  hated  the  man,  and  I  likewise  deeply  distrusted 
him.  But  I  could  not,  even  after  this  revelation  of 
his  duplicity,  connect  him  in  my  thoughts  with 
absolute  crime  without  a  shock  to  my  intuitions. 
Happily,  my  scruples  were  not  shared  by  my  col- 
leagues. They  had  listed  him.  Here  I  felt  my 
shoulder  touched,  and  a  newspaper  was  thrust  into 
my  hand  by  the  man  who  had  just  addressed  me. 

"Look  down  the  lost  and  found  column,"  said 
he.  "The  third  advertisement  you  will  see  there 
came  from  the  district  attorney's  office;  the  next 
one  was  inserted  by  Mr.  Moore  himself." 

I  followed  his  pointing  finger  and  read  two  de- 


THE  HEART  OF  THE  PUZZLE     Sl7 

scriptions  of  the  filigree  ball.  The  disproportion 
in  the  rewards  offered  was  apparent.  That  prom- 
ised by  Uncle  David  was  calculated  to  rouse  any 
man's  cupidity  and  should  have  resulted  in  the 
bauble's  immediate  return. 

"He  got  ahead  of  the  police  that  time,"  I 
laughed.  "When  did  these  advertisements  ap- 
pear?" 

"During  the  days  you  were  absent  from  Wash- 
ington." 

"And  how  sure  are  you  that  he  did  not  get  this 
jewel  back?" 

"Oh,  we  are  sure.  His  continued  anxiety  and 
still  active  interest  prove  this,  even  if  our  surveil- 
lance had  been  less  perfect." 

"And  the  police  have  been  equally  unsuccessful?" 

"Equally." 

"After  every  effort?" 

"Every." 

"Who  was  the  man  who  collected  and  carried  out 
those  things  from  the  southwest  chamber?" 

He  smiled. 

"You  see  him,"  said  he. 

"It  was  you?" 

"Myself." 

"And  you  are  sure  this  small  ball  was  among 
them?" 

"No.    I  only  know  that  I  have  seen  it  some- 


318  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

where,  but  that  it  wasn't  among  the  articles  I  deliv- 
ered to  Mr.  Jeffrey." 

"How  did  you  carry  them?" 

"In  a  hand-bag  which  I  locked  myself." 

"Before  leaving  the  southwest  chamber  ?" 

"Yes." 

"Then  it  is  still  in  that  room?" 

"Find  it,"  was  his  laconic  reply. 

Here  most  men  would  have  stopped,  but  I  have  a 
bulldog's  tenacity  when  once  I  lay  hold.  That 
night  I  went  back  to  the  Moore  house  and,  taking 
every  precaution  against  being  surprised  by  the 
sarcastic  Durbin  or  some  of  his  many  flatterers,  I 
ransacked  the  southwest  chamber  on  my  own  be- 
half for  what  certainly  I  had  little  reason  to  expect 
to  find  there. 

It  seemed  a  hopeless  cause  from  the  first,  but  I 
acted  as  if  no  one  had  hunted  for  this  object  be- 
fore. Moving  every  article,  I  sought  first  on  the 
open  floor  and  then  in  every  possible  cranny  for  the 
missing  trinket.  But  I  failed  to  find  it  and  was 
about  to  acknowledge  myself  defeated  when  my  eye 
fell  on  the  long  brocaded  curtains  which  I  had 
drawn  across  the  several  windows  to  hide  every 
gleam  of  light  from  the  street.  They  were  almost 
free  from  folds,  but  I  shook  them  well,  especially 
the  one  nearest  the  table,  and  naturally  with  no 
effect. 


THE  HEART  OF  THE  PUZZLE     319 

"Folly,"  I  muttered,  yet  did  not  quite  desist. 
For  the  great  tassels  still  hung  at  the  sides  and — 
Well !  you  may  call  it  an  impossible  find  or  say  that 
if  the  bauble  was  there  it  should  have  been  discov- 
ered in  the  first  search  for  it!  I  will  not  say  no. 
I  can  only  tell  you  what  happened.  When  I  took 
one  of  those  tassels  in  my  hand,  I  thought,  as  ft 
twirled  under  my  touch,  that  I  saw  something  gleam 
in  its  faded  old  threads  which  did  not  belong  there. 
Startled,  and  yet  not  thoroughly  realizing  that  I 
had  come  upon  the  object  of  my  search,  I  picked  at 
this  thing  and  found  it  to  be  a  morsel  of  gold  chain 
that  had  become  entangled  in  it.  When  I  had 
pulled  it  out,  it  showed  a  small  golden  ball  at  one 
end,  filigreed  over  and  astonishingly  heavy  for 
its  size  and  apparent  delicacy. 

How  it  came  there — whether  it  rolled  from  the 
table,  or  was  swept  off  inadvertently  by  the  de- 
tective's hand,  and  how  it  came  to  be  caught  by  this 
old  tassel  and  held  there  in  spite  of  the  many  shak- 
ings it  must  have  received,  did  not  concern  me  at 
this  momentous  instant.  The  talisman  of  this  old 
family  was  found.  I  had  but  to  discover  what  it 
held  concealed  to  understand  what  had  baffled  Mr. 
Moore  and  made  the  mystery  he  had  endeavored  to 
penetrate  so  insolvable.  Rejoicing  in  my  triumph, 
but  not  wasting  a  moment  in  self-congratulation,  I 
bent  over  the  candle  with  my  prize  and  sought  for 


320  THE    FILIGREE    BALL1 

the  clasp  or  fastening  which  held  its  two  parts  to- 
gether. I  have  a  knack  at  clasps  and  curious  fast- 
enings and  was  able  at  first  touch  to  spring  this 
one  open.  And  what  did  I  find  inside?  Something 
so  different  from  what  I  expected,  something  so 
trivial  and  seemingly  harmless,  that  it  was  not  until 
I  recalled  the  final  words  of  Uncle  David's  mem- 
orandum that  I  realized  its  full  import  and  the  pos- 
sibilities it  suggested.  In  itself  it  was  nothing 
but  a  minute  magnifying  glass;  but  when  used  in 
connection  with — what?  Ah,  that  was  just  what 
Uncle  David  failed  to  say,  possibly  to  know.  Yet 
this  was  now  the  important  point,  the  culminating 
fact  which  might  lead  to  a  full  understanding  of 
these  many  tragedies.  Could  I  hope  to  guess  what 
presented  itself  to  Mr.  Moore  as  a  difficult  if  not 
insolvable  problem?  No;  guessing  would  not  an- 
swer. I  must  trust  to  the  inspiration  of  the  mo- 
ment which  suggested  with  almost  irresistible  con- 
viction : 

The  picture!  That  Inane  and  seemingly  worth- 
less drawing  over  the  fireplace  In  The  ColoneVs 
Own,  whose  presence  In  so  rich  a  room  has  always 
been  a  mystery! 

Why  this  object  should  have  suggested  itself  to 
me  and  with  such  instant  conviction,  I  can  not  read- 
ily say.  Whether,  from  my  position  near  the  bed, 
the  sight  of  this  old  drawing  recalled  the  restless 


THE  HEART  OP   iHE  PUZZLE     321 

nights  of  all  who  had  lain  in  face  of  its  sickly 
smile,  or  whether  some  recollection  of  that  secret 
law  of  the  Moores  which  forbade  the  removal  of  any 
of  their  pictures  from  the  time-worn  walls,  or  a 
remembrance  of  the  curiosity  which  this  picture  ex- 
cited in  every  one  who  looked  at  it — Francis  Jeffrey 
among  the  number — I  no  sooner  asked  myself  what 
object  in  this  house  might  possibly  yield  counsel  or 
suggest  aid  when  subjected  to  the  influence  of  a 
magnifying  glass,  than  the  answer,  which  I  have 
already  given,  sprang  instantly  into  my  mind :  The 
picture ! 

Greatly  excited,  I  sprang  upon  a  chair,  took 
down  the  drawing  from  the  wall  and  laid  it  face 
up  on  the  bed.  Then  I  placed  the  glass  over 
one  of  the  large  coils  surrounding  the  insipid  face, 
and  was  startled  enough,  in  spite  of  all  mental 
preparation,  to  perceive  the  crinkly  lines  which 
formed  it,  resolve  themselves  into  script  and  the 
script  into  words,  some  of  which  were  perfectly 
legible. 

The  drawing,  simple  as  it  looked,  was  a  com- 
munication in  writing  to  those  who  used  a  magnify- 
ing glass  to  read  it.  I  could  hardly  contain  my 
triumph,  hardly  find  the  self-control  necessary  to  a 
careful  study  of  its  undulating  and  often  conflict- 
ing lines  and  to  the  slow  picking  out  of  the  words 
therein  contained. 


322  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

But  when  I  had  done  this,  and  had  copied  the 
whole  of  the  wandering  scrawl  on  a  page  of  my 
note  book  the  result  was  of  value. 

Read,  and  judge  for  yourself. 

"Coward  that  I  am,  I  am  willing  to  throw  upon 
posterity  the  shadow  of  a  crime  whose  consequences 
I  dare  not  incur  in  life.  Confession  I  must  make. 
To  die  and  leave  no  record  of  my  deed  is  impos- 
sible. Yet  how  tell  my  story  so  that  only  my  own 
heirs  may  read  and  they  when  at  the  crisis  of  their 
fate?  I  believe  I  have  found  the  way  by  this 
drawing  and  the  injunction  I  have  left  to  the 
holders  of  the  filigree  ball. 

"No  man  ever  wished  his  enemy  dead  more  than 
I  did,  and  no  man  ever  spent  more  cunning  on  the 
deed.  Master  in  my  own  house,  I  contrived  a  de- 
vice by  which  the  man  who  held  my  fate  in  his 
hands  fell  on  my  library  hearth  with  no  one 
near  and  no  sign  by  which  to  associate  me  with 
the  act.  Does  this  seem  like  the  assertion  of  a  mad- 
man ?  Go  to  the  old  chamber  familiarly  called  "The 
Colonel's  Own."  Enter  its  closet,  pull  out  its  two 
drawers,  and  in  the  opening  thus  made  seek  for  the 
loophole  at  the  back,  through  which,  if  you  stoop 
low  enough,  you  can  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  library 
hearth  and  its  great  settle.  With  these  in  view,  slip 
your  finger  along  the  wall  on  your  right  and  when 


THE  HEART  OF  THE  PUZZLE     323 

It  touches  an  obstruction — pass  it  if  it  is  a  handle, 
for  that  is  only  used  to  rewind  the  apparatus  and 
must  be  turned  from  you  until  it  can  be  turned  no 
farther;  but  if  it  is  a  depression  you  encounter, 
press,  and  press  hard  on  the  knob  concealed  within 
it.  But  beware  when  any  one  you  love  is  seated  in 
that  corner  of  the  settle  where  the  cushion  invites 
rest,  lest  it  be  your  fate  to  mourn  and  wail  as  it  is 
mine  to  curse  the  hour  when  I  sought  to  clear  my 
way  by  murder.  For  the  doom  of  the  man  of  blood 
is  upon  me.  The  hindrance  is  gone  from  my  life,  but 
a  horror  has  entered  it  beyond  the  conception  of 
any  soul  that  has  not  yielded  itself  to  the  unimag- 
inable influences  emanating  from  an  accomplished 
crime.  /  can  not  be  content  with  having  pressed 
that  spring  once.  A  mania  is  upon  me  which,  after 
thirty  years  of  useless  resistance  and  superhuman 
struggle,  still  draws  me  from  bed  and  sleep  to  re- 
hearse in  ghastly  fashion  that  deed  of  my  early 
manhood.  I  can  not  resist  it.  To  tear  out  the 
deadly  mechanism,  unhinge  weight  and  drum  and 
rid  the  house  of  every  evidence  of  crime  would  but 
drive  me  to  shriek  my  guilt  aloud  and  act  in  open 
pantomime  what  I  now  go  through  in  fearsome  si- 
lence and  secrecy.  When  the  hour  comes,  as  come 
it  must,  that  I  can  not  rise  and  enter  that  fatal 
closet,  I  shall  still  enact  the  deed  in  dreams,  and 
shriek  aloud  in  my  sleep  and  wish  myself  dead  and 


324  THE   FILIGREE   BALL 

yet  fear  to  die  lest  my  hell  be  to  go  through  all 
eternity,  slaying  over  and  over  my  man,  in  ever 
growing  horror  and  repulsion. 

"Do  you  wish  to  share  my  fate?  Try  to  effect 
through  blood  a  release  from  the  difficulties  menac- 
ing you." 


xxn 

A  THREAD  IN  HAND 

There  are  moments  which  stand  out  with  intense 
force  and  clearness  in  every  man's  life.  Mine  was 
the  one  which  followed  the  reading  of  these  lines — 
lines  which  were  meant  for  a  warning,  but  which 
in  more  than  one  case  had  manifestly  served  to  open 
the  way  to  a  repetition  of  the  very  crime  they 
deplored.  I  felt  myself  under  the  same  fascina- 
tion. I  wanted  to  test  the  mechanism;  to  follow 
out  then  and  there  the  instructions  given  with  such 
short-sighted  minuteness  and  mark  the  result.  But 
a  sense  of  decorum  prevented.  It  was  clearly  my 
duty  to  carry  so  important  a  discovery  as  this  to 
the  major  and  subject  myself  to  his  commands  be- 
fore making  the  experiment  suggested  by  the  scroll 
I  had  so  carefully  deciphered.  Besides,  it  would 
be  difficult  to  carry  out  this  experiment  alone,  and 
with  no  other  light  than  that  afforded  by  my  lan- 
tern. Another  man  and  more  lights  were  needed. 

Influenced  by  these  considerations,  I  restored  the 
picture  to  its  place,  and  left  the  building.  As  I  did 
325 


326  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

so,  the  first  signs  of  dawn  became  visible  in  the 
east.  I  had  expended  three  hours  in  picking  out 
the  meaning  concealed  in  the  wavy  lines  of  the  old 
picture. 

I  was  early  at  headquarters  that  morning,  but 
not  so  early  as  to  find  the  superintendent  alone. 
A  group  of  men  were  already  congregated 
about  him  in  his  small  office,  and  when,  on  being 
admitted,  I  saw  amongst  them  the  district  attor- 
ney, Durbin  and  another  famous  detective,  I  in- 
stinctively knew  what  matter  was  under  discussion. 

I  was  allowed  to  remain,  possibly  because  I 
brought  news  in  my  face,  possibly  because  the  ma- 
jor felt  more  kindly  toward  me  than  I  thought. 
Though  Durbin,  who  had  been  speaking,  had  at 
first  sight  of  me  shut  his  mouth  like  a  trap,  and 
even  went  so  far  as  to  drum  an  impatient  protest 
with  his  fingers  on  the  table  before  which  he  stood, 
neither  the  major  nor  the  district  attorney  turned 
an  unkindly  face  toward  me,  and  my  amiable 
friend  was  obliged  to  accept  my  presence  with 
what  grace  he  could. 

There  was  with  them  a  fourth  man,  who  stood 
apart.  On  him  the  general  attention  had  been  con- 
centrated at  my  entrance  and  to  him  it  now  re- 
turned. He  was  an  unpretentious  person  of  kindly 
aspect.  To  any  one  accustomed  to  Washington  res- 
idents, he  bore  the  unmistakable  signs  of  being  one 


A  THREAD  IN  HAND  327 

of  the  many  departmental  employees  whose  pay  is 
inadequate  to  the  necessities  of  his  family.  Of 
his  personal  peculiarities  I  noted  two.  He  blinked 
when  he  talked,  and  stuttered  painfully  when  ex- 
cited. Notwithstanding  these  defects  he  made  a 
good  impression,  and  commanded  confidence.  This 
I  soon  saw  was  of  importance,  for  the  story  he  now 
entered  upon  was  one  calculated  to  make  me  forget 
my  own  errand  and  even  to  question  my  own  con- 
victions. 

The  first  intimation  I  received  of  the  curious  na- 
ture of  his  communication  was  through  the  fol- 
lowing questions,  put  to  him  by  the  major: 

"You  are  sure  this  gentleman  is  identical  with 
the  one  pointed  out  to  you  last  night?" 

"Very  sure,  sir.    I  can  swear  to  it." 

I  omit  all  evidence  of  the  defect  in  his  speech 
above  mentioned. 

"You  recognize  him  positively  ?" 

"Positively.  I  should  have  picked  him  out  with 
the  same  assurance,  if  I  had  seen  him  in  some  other 
city  and  in  a  crowd  of  as  fine-looking  gentlemen  as 
himself.  His  face  made  a  great  impression  on  me. 
You  see  I  had  ample  time  to  study  it  in  the  few  min- 
utes we  stood  so  close  together." 

"So  you  have  said.  Will  you  be  kind  enough  to 
repeat  the  circumstance?  I  should  like  the  man 
who  has  just  come  in  to  hear  your  description  of 


328  THE   FILIGREE    BALL 

this  scene.  Give  the  action,  please.  It  is  all  very 
interesting." 

The  stranger  glanced  inquisitively  in  my  direc- 
tion, and  turned  to  obey  the  superintendent. 

"I  was  returning  to  my  home  in  Georgetown,  on 
the  evening  of  May  the  eleventh,  the  day  of  the 
great  tragedy.  My  wife  was  ill,  and  I  had  been 
into  town  to  see  a  physician  and  should  have  gone 
directly  home;  but  I  was  curious  to  see  how  high 
the  flood  was  running — you  remember  it  was  over 
the  banks  that  night.  So  I  wandered  out  on  the 
bridge,  and  came  upon  the  gentleman  about  whom 
you  have  been  questioning  me.  He  was  standing 
all  alone  leaning  on  the  rail  thus."  Here  the 
speaker  drew  up  a  chair,  and,  crossing  his  arms 
over  its  back,  bent  his  head  down  over  them.  "I 
did  not  know  him,  but  the  way  he  eyed  the  water 
leaping  and  boiling  in  a  yellow  flood  beneath  was 
not  the  WAy  of  a  curious  man  like  myself,  but 
of  one  who  was  meditating  some  desperate  deed. 
He  was  handsome  and  well  dressed,  but  he  looked 
a  miserable  wretch  and  was  in  a  state  of  such 
complete  self-absorption  that  he  did  not  notice 
me,  though  I  had  stopped  not  five  feet  from  his 
side.  I  expected  to  see  him  throw  himself  over,  but 
instead  of  that,  he  suddenly  raised  his  head  and, 
gazing  straight  before  him,  not  at  the  heavy  cur- 
rent, but  at  some  vision  in  his  own  mind,  broke 


A  THREAD  IN  HAND  829 

forth  in  these  words,  spoken  as  I  had  never  heard 
words  spoken  before — " 

Here  the  speaker's  stuttering  got  the  better  of 
him  and  the  district  attorney  had  time  to  say : 

"What  were  these  words?  Speak  them  slowly; 
we  have  all  the  time  there  is." 

Instantly  the  man  plucked  up  heart  and,  eying 
us  all  impressively,  was  able  to  say : 

"They  were  these:  'She  must  die!  she  must  die!' 
No  name,  but  just  the  one  phrase  twice  repeated, 
'She  must  die!'  This  startled  me,  and  hardly  know- 
ing whether  to  lay  hands  on  him,  or  to  turn  about 
and  run,  I  was  moving  slowly  away,  when  he  drew 
his  arms  from  the  rail,  like  this,  and,  still  staring 
into  space,  added,  in  the  same  hard  and  determined 
voice,  this  one  word  more,  'To-night !' ;  and,  wheel- 
ing about,  passed  me  with  one  blank  and  wholly 
unconscious  look  and  betook  himself  toward  the 
city.  As  he  went  by,  his  lips  opened  for  the  third 
time.  'Which  means — '  he  cried,  between  a  groan 
and  a  shriek,  'a  bullet  for  her  and — '  I  wish  I  had 
heard  the  rest,  but  he  was  out  of  my  hearing  before 
his  sentence  was  finished." 

"What  time  was  this?" 

"As  near  half-past  five  as  possible.  It  was  six 
when  I  reached  home  a  few  minutes  later." 

"Ah,  he  must  have  gone  to  the  cemetery  after 
this." 


330  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

"I  am  quite  sure  of  it." 

"Why  didn't  you  follow  the  man?"  grumbled 
Durbin. 

"It  wasn't  my  business.  He  was  a  stranger  and 
possibly  mad.  I  didn't  know  what  to  do." 

"What  did  you  do?" 

"Went  home  and  kept  quiet ;  my  wife  was  very  ill 
that  night  and  I  had  my  own  cause  for  anxiety." 

"You,  however,  read  the  papers  next  morning?" 

"No,  sir,  nor  for  many  days.  My  wife  grew  con- 
stantly worse  and  for  a  week  I  didn't  leave  her,  not 
knowing  but  that  every  breath  would  be  her  last.  I 
was  dead  to  everything  outside  the  sick-room  and 
when  she  grew  better,  which  was  very  gradually, 
we  had  to  take  her  away,  so  that  I  had  no  oppor- 
tunity of  speaking  of  this  occurrence  to  any  one  till 
a  week  ago,  when  some  remark,  published  in  connec- 
tion with  Mrs.  Jeffrey's  death,  recalled  that  en- 
counter on  the  bridge.  I  told  a  neighbor  that  I 
believed  the  man  I  had  seen  there  was  Mr.  Jeffrey, 
and  we  looked  up  the  papers  and  ran  over  them  till 
we  came  upon  his  picture.  That  settled  it,  and  I 
could  no  longer — being  free  from  home  anxieties 
now — hold  my  tongue  and  the  police  heard — " 

"That  will  do,  Mr.  Gelston,"  broke  in  the  major. 
"When  we  want  you  again,  we  will  let  you  know. 
Durbin,  see  Mr.  Gelston  out." 


A  THREAD  IN  HAND  331 

I  was  left  alone  with  the  major  and  the  district 
attorney. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  during  which 
my  own  heart  beat  so  loud  that  I  was  afraid  they 
would  hear  it.  Since  taking  up  Miss  Tuttle's 
cause  I  had  never  really  believed  in  Mr.  Jeffrey's 
innocence  in  spite  of  the  alibi  he  had  brought  for- 
ward, and  now  I  expected  to  hear  these  men  utter 
the  same  conviction.  The  major  was  the  first  to 
speak.  Addressing  the  district  attorney,  he  re- 
marked :  "This  will  strengthen  your  case  very  ma- 
terially. We  have  proof  now  that  Mrs.  Jeffrey's 
death  was  actually  determined  upon.  If  Miss  Tut- 
tle  had  not  shot  her,  he  would.  I  wonder  if  it  was 
a  relief  to  him  on  reaching  his  door  to  find  that  the 
deed  was  done." 

I  could  not  suppress  my  surprise. 

"Miss  Tuttle !"  I  repeated.  "Is  it  so  unmistak- 
ably evident  that  Mr.  Jeffrey  did  not  get  to  the 
Moore  house  in  time  to  do  the  shooting  himself?" 

The  major  gave  me  a  quick  look. 

"I  thought  you  considered  Miss  Tuttle  the 
guilty  one." 

I  felt  that  the  time  had  come  to  show  my  colors. 

"I  have  changed  my  mind,"  said  I.  "I  can  give 
you  no  good  reason  for  this;  something  in  the 
woman  herself,  I  suppose.  She  does  not  look  nor  act 


332  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

like  a  criminal.  While  not  desirous  of  raising  my- 
self in  opposition  to  the  judgment  of  those  so 
greatly  my  superior  in  all  respects,  I  have  had  this 
feeling,  and  I  am  courageous  enough  to  avow  it. 
And  yet,  if  Mr.  Jeffrey  could  not  have  left  the 
cemetery  gates  and  reached  the  Moore  house  in 
time  to  fulfil  all  the  conditions  of  this  tragedy, 
the  case  does  look  black  against  the  woman.  She 
admits  to  having  been  there  when  the  pistol  was 
fired,  unless — " 

"Unless  what?  You  have  something  new  to  tell 
us.  That  I  have  seen  ever  since  you  entered  the 
room.  What  is  it?" 

I  cast  a  glance  at  the  door.  Should  I  be  able  to 
finish  my  story  before  Durbin  returned  ?  I  thought 
it  possible,  and,  though  still  upset  by  this  new 
evidence,  which  I  could  now  see  was  not  entirely  in 
Miss  Tuttle's  favor,  I  spoke  up  with  what  spirit  I 
might. 

"I  have  just  come  from  spending  another  night 
in  the  Moore  house.  All  the  efforts  heretofore  made 
to  exhaust  its  secrets  have  been  founded  upon  a  the- 
ory that  has  brought  us  nowhere.  I  had  another  in 
mind,  and  I  was  anxious  to  test  it  before  resting 
from  all  further  attempt  to  solve  this  riddle.  And 
it  has  not  failed  me.  By  pursuing  a  clue  ap- 
parently so  trivial  that  I  allowed  it  to  go  neglected 


A  THREAD  IN  HAN13  333 

for  weeks,  I  have  come  upon  the  key  to  the  many 
mysterious  crimes  which  have  defiled  the  library 
hearthstone.  And  where  do  you  think  it  lies  ?  Not 
in  the  hearthstone  itself  and  not  in  the  floor  under 
the  settle ;  not,  in  fact,  in  the  library  at  all,  but  in 
the  picture  hanging  upstairs  in  the  southwest  cham- 
ber." 

"The  picture !  that  faded-out  sketch,  fit  only  for 
the  garret?" 

"Yes.  To  you  and  to  most  people  surveying  it,  it 
is  just  what  you  say  and  nothing  more.  But  to  the 
initiated  few — pray  Heaven  they  may  have  been 
few — it  is  writing,  conveying  secret  instructions. 
The  whole  combination  of  curves  which  go  to  make 
up  this  sketch  is  a  curious  arrangement  of  words  in- 
scribed with  the  utmost  care,  in  the  smallest  of 
characters.  Viewed  with  a  magnifying  glass,  the 
uncertain  outlines  of  a  shadowy  face  surmounted  by 
a  mass  of  piled-up  hair  resolve  themselves  into  lines 
of  writing,  the  words  of  which  are  quite  intelligi- 
ble and  full  of  grim  and  unmistakable  purpose.  I 
have  read  those  lines ;  and  what  is  more,  I  have 
transcribed  them  into  plain  copy.  Will  you  read 
them?  They  contain  a  most  extraordinary  confes- 
sion ;  a  confession  that  was  manifestly  intended  as  a 
warning,  but  which  unfortunately  has  had  very  dif- 
ferent results.  It  may  explain  the  death  of  the 


334  THE    FILIGREE    BALI, 

man  from  Denver,  even  if  it  cast  no  light  upon  the 
other  inexplicable  features  of  the  remarkable  case 
we  are  considering." 

As  I  spoke  I  laid  open  on  the  table  before  me  the 
transcription  of  which  I  spoke.  Instantly  the  two 
men  bent  over  it.  When  they  looked  up  again,  their 
countenances  showed  not  excitement  only  but  appre- 
ciation; and  in  the  one  minute  of  triumph  which  I 
then  enjoyed,  all  that  had  wounded  or  disturbed  me 
in  the  past  was  forgotten. 

"You  are  a  man  in  a  thousand,"  was  the  major's 
first  enthusiastic  comment ;  at  which  I  was  conscious 
of  regretting,  with  very  pardonable  inconsistency, 
that  Durbin  had  not  returned  in  time  to  hear  these 
words. 

The  major  now  proposed  that  we  should  go  at 
once  to  the  old  house.  "A  family  secret  like  this 
does  not  crop  up  every  day  even  in  a  city  so  full  of 
surprises  as  Washington.  We  will  hunt  for  the 
spring  under  the  closet  drawers  and  see  what  hap- 
pens, eh?  And  on  our  way  there" — here  he  turned 
to  me — "I  should  like  to  hear  the  particulars  con- 
cerning the  little  clue  just  mentioned.  By  the 
way,  Mr.  Jeffrey's  interest  in  this  old  drawing  is 
now  explained.  He  knew  its  diabolical  secret." 

This  was  self-evident,  and  my  heart  was  heavy 
for  Miss  Tuttle,  who  seemed  to  be  so  deep  in  her 
brother-in-law's  confidence. 

It  grew  still  heavier  when  Durbin,  joining  us, 


A  THREAD  IN  HAND  335 

added  his  incredulity  to  the  air  of  suspicion  assumed 
by  the  others.  Through  all  the  explanations  I 
now  entered  into,  I  found  myself  inwardly  repeat- 
ing with  somewhat  forced  iteration,  "I  will  not  be- 
lieve her  guilty  under  any  circumstances.  She  car- 
ries the  look  of  innocence,  and  innocent  she  must  be 
proved,  whatever  the  result  may  be  to  Francis  Jef- 
frey." 

To  such  an  extent  had  I  been  influenced  by  the 
lofty  expression  which  I  had  once  surprised  on  her 
face. 

Had  Mr.  David  Moore  been  sitting  open-eyed 
behind  his  vines  that  morning,  he  would  have  been 
much  surprised  to  see  so  many  of  his  natural  ene- 
mies intrude  on  his  property  at  so  early  an  hour. 
But,  happily,  he  had  not  yet  risen,  and  we  were 
able  to  enter  upon  our  investigations  without  being 
watched  or  interrupted  by  him. 

Our  first  move  was  to  go  in  a  body  to  the  south- 
west chamber,  take  down  the  picture,  examine  it 
with  a  magnifying-glass  and  satisfy  ourselves  that 
the  words  I  had  picked  out  of  its  mazy  lines  were 
really  to  be  found  there.  This  done  and  my 
veracity  established,  we  next  proceeded  to  the 
closet  where,  according  to  the  instructions  em- 
bodied in  this  picture,  the  secret  spring  was  to  be 
found  by  which  some  unknown  and  devilish  ma- 
chinery would  be  released  in  the  library  below. 

To  my  great  satisfaction  the  active  part  in  this 


336  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

experiment  was  delegated  to  me.  Durbin  continued 
to  be  a  mere  looker-on.  Drawing  out  the  two  large 
drawers  from  their  place  at  the  end  of  this  closet,  I 
set  them  aside.  Then  I  hunted  for  and  found  the 
small  loophole  which  we  had  been  told  afforded  a 
glimpse  of  the  library  hearthstone;  but  seeing 
nothing  through  it,  I  called  for  a  light  to  be  placed 
in  the  room  below. 

I  heard  Durbin  go  down,  then  the  major,  and 
finally,  the  district  attorney.  Nothing  could  stay 
their  curiosity  now,  not  even  the  possibility  of  dan- 
ger, which  as  yet  was  a  lurking  and  mysterious  one. 
But  when  a  light  shot  up  from  below,  and  the  irreg- 
ular opening  before  me  became  a  loophole  through 
which  I  could  catch  a  very  wide  glimpse  of  the 
library  beneath,  I  found  that  it  was  not  necessary 
for  me  to  warn  them  to  keep  away  from  the  hearth, 
as  they  were  all  clustered  very  near  the  door — a 
precaution  not  altogether  uncalled  for  at  so  hazard- 
ous a  moment. 

"Are  you  ready?"  I  called  down. 

"Ready!"  rose  in  simultaneous  response  from 
below. 

"Then  look  out!" 

Reaching  for  the  spring  cleverly  concealed  in  the 
wall  at  my  right  I  vigorously  pressed  it. 

The  result  was  instantaneous.  Silently,  but  with 
unerring  certainty,  something  small,  round,  and 


A  THREAD  IN  HAND  337 

deadly,  fell  plumb  from  the  library  ceiling  to  where 
the  settle  had  formerly  stood  against  the  hearth- 
stone. Finding  nothing  there  but  vacancy  to  ex- 
pend itself  upon,  it  swung  about  for  a  moment  on 
what  looked  like  a  wire  or  a  whip-cord,  then  slowly 
came  to  rest  within  a  foot  or  so  from  the  floor. 

A  cry  from  the  horrified  officials  below  was  what 
first  brought  me  to  myself.  Withdrawing  from  my 
narrow  quarters  I  hastened  down  to  them  and  added 
one  more  white  face  to  the  three  I  found  congre- 
gated in  the  doorway.  In  the  diabolical  ingenuity 
we  had  seen  displayed,  crime  had  reached  its  acme 
and  the  cup  of  human  depravity  seemed  full. 

When  we  had  regained  in  some  measure  our  self- 
possession,  we  all  advanced  for  a  closer  look  at  the 
murderous  obj  ect  dangling  before  us.  We  found  it 
to  be  a  heavy  leaden  weight  painted  on  its  lower  end 
to  match  the  bosses  of  stucco-work  which  appeared 
at  regular  intervals  in  the  ornamentation  of  the 
ceiling.  When  drawn  up  into  place,  that  is,  when 
occupying  the  hole  from  which  it  now  hung  sus- 
pended, the  portion  left  to  protrude  would  evi- 
dently bear  so  small  a  proportion  to  its  real  bulk  as 
to  justify  any  eye  in  believing  it  to  be  the  mate, 
and  the  harmless  mate,  of  all  the  others. 

"It  hangs  just  where  the  settle  stood,"  observed 
Durbin,  significantly. 

"And  just  at  the  point  where  the  cushions  invite 


338  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

rest,  as  the  colonel  so  suggestively  puts  it  in  his 
strange  puzzle  of  a  confession,"  added  the  district 
attorney. 

"Replace  the  old  seat,"  ordered  the  major,  "and 
let  us  make  sure  of  this." 

Ready  hands  at  once  grasped  it,  and,  with  some 
effort,  I  own,  drew  it  carefully  back  into  position. 

"You  see !"  quoth  Durbin. 

We  did. 

"Devilish!"  came  from  the  major's  lips.  Then 
with  a  glance  at  the  ball  which,  pushed  aside  by  the 
seat,  now  hung  over  its  edge  a  foot  or  so  from  the 
floor,  he  added  briskly :  "The  ball  has  fallen  to  the 
full  length  of  the  cord.  If  it  were  drawn  up  a 
little—" 

"Wait,"  I  eagerly  interposed.  "Let  me  see  what 
I  can  do  with  it." 

And  I  dashed  back  upstairs  and  into  the  closet  of 
"The  Colonel's  Own." 

With  a  single  peep  down  to  see  if  they  were  still 
on  the  watch,  I  seized  the  handle  whose  position  I 
had  made  sure  of  when  searching  for  the  spring, 
and  began  to  turn;  when  instantly — so  quick  was 
the  response — the  long  cord  stiffened  and  I  saw 
the  ball  rise  into  sight  above  the  settle-top. 

"Stop !"  called  out  the  major.  "Let  go  and  press 
the  spring  again." 


A  THREAD  IN  HAND  339 

I  hastened  to  obey  and,  though  the  back  of  the 
settle  hid  the  result  from  me,  I  judged  from  the 
look  and  attitude  of  those  below  that  the  old  col- 
onel's calculations  had  been  made  with  great  exact- 
ness, and  that  the  one  comfortable  seat  on  the  rude 
and  cumbersome  bench  had  been  so  placed  that  this 
leaden  weight  in  descending  would  at  the  chosen 
moment  strike  the  head  of  him  who  sat  there,  in- 
flicting death.  That  the  weight  should  be  made 
just  heavy  enough  to  produce  a  fatal  concussion 
without  damaging  the  skull  was  proof  of  the  ex- 
treme care  with  which  this  subtile  apparatus  had 
been  contrived.  An  open  wound  would  have  aroused 
questions,  but  a  mere  bruise  might  readily  pass  as  a 
result  of  the  yictim's  violent  contact  with  the  fur- 
nishings of  the  hearth  toward  which  the  shocked 
body  would  naturally  topple.  The  fact  that  a 
modern  jury  had  so  regarded  it  shows  how  justi- 
fied he  was  in  this  expectation. 

I  was  expending  my  wonder  on  this  and  on  a 
new  discovery  which,  with  a  very  decided  shock  to 
myself  I  had  just  made  in  the  closet,  when  the 
command  came  to  turn  the  handle  again  and  to 
keep  on  turning  it  till  it  would  turn  no  farther. 

I  complied,  but  with  a  trembling  hand,  and 
though  I  did  not  watch  the  result,  the  satisfaction  I 
heard  expressed  below  was  significant  of  the  celerity 


340  THE   FILIGREE    BALL 

and  precision  with  which  the  weight  rose,  foot  by 
foot,  to  the  ceiling  and  finally  slunk  snugly  and 
without  seeming  jar  into  its  lair. 

When,  a  few  minutes  later,  I  rejoined  those  be- 
low, I  found  them  all,  with  eyes  directed  toward 
the  cornice,  searching  for  the  hole  through  which  I 
had  just  been  looking.  It  was  next  to  impercepti- 
ble, so  naturally  had  it  been  made  to  fit  in  with  the 
shadows  of  the  scroll  work;  and  even  after  I  had 
discovered  it  and  pointed  it  out  to  them,  I  found 
difficulty  in  making  them  believe  that  they  really 
looked  upon  an  opening.  But  when  once  convinced 
of  this,  the  district  attorney's  remark  was  signifi- 
cant. 

"I  am  glad  that  my  name  is  not  Moore." 

The  superintendent  made  no  reply;  his  eye  had 
caught  mine,  and  he  had  become  very  thoughtful. 

"One  of  the  two  candelabra  belonging  to  the  par- 
lor mantel  was  found  lying  on  that  closet  floor,"  he 
observed.  "Somebody  has  entered  there  lately,  as 
lately  as  the  day  when  Mr.  Pfeiffer  was  seated 
here." 

"Pardon  me,"  I  impetuously  cried.  "Mr.  Pfeif- 
fer's  death  is  quite  explained."  And,  drawing  for- 
ward my  hand,  which  up  to  this  moment  I  had  held 
tight-shut  behind  my  back,  I  slowly  unclosed  it  be- 
fore their  astonished  eyes. 


A  THREAD  IN  HAND  341 

A  bit  of  lace  lay  in  my  palm,  a  delicate  bit,  such 
as  is  only  worn  by  women  in  full  dress. 

"Where  did  you  find  that?"  asked  the  major, 
with  the  first  show  of  deep  emotion  I  have  ever  ob- 
served in  him. 

My  agitation  was  greater  than  his  as  I  replied : 

"In  the  rough  boarding  under  those  drawers. 
Some  woman's  arm  and  hand  has  preceded  mine  in 
stealthy  search  after  that  fatal  spring.  A  woman 
who  wore  lace,  valuable  lace." 

There  was  but  one  woman  connected  with  this  af- 
fair who  rightly  answered  these  conditions.  The 
bride !  Veronica  Moore. 


XXIII 

WORDS  IN   THE   NIGHT 

Had  I  any  premonition  of  the  astounding  fact 
thus  suddenly  and,  I  may  say,  dramatically  re- 
vealed to  us  during  the  weeks  I  had  devoted 
to  the  elucidation  of  the  causes  and  circum- 
stances of  Mrs.  Jeffrey's  death  ?  I  do  not  think  so. 
Nothing  in  her  face,  as  I  remembered  it;  nothing 
in  the  feeling  evinced  toward  her  by  husband  or 
sister,  had  prepared  me  for  a  disclosure  of  crime  so 
revolting  as  to  surpass  all  that  I  had  ever  imagined 
or  could  imagine  in  a  woman  of  such  dainty  person- 
ality and  unmistakable  culture.  Nor  was  the  su- 
perintendent or  the  district  attorney  less  con- 
founded by  the  event.  Durbin  only  tried  to  look 
wise  and  strut  about,  but  it  was  of  no  use;  he  de- 
ceived nobody.  Veronica  Moore's  real  connection 
with  Mr.  Pfeiffer's  death, — a  death  which  in  some 
inscrutable  way  had  in  so  short  a  time  led  to  her 
own, — was  an  overwhelming  surprise  to  every  one 
of  us. 

The  superintendent,  as  was  natural,  recovered 
first. 

343 


WORDS  IN  THE  NIGHT  34B 

"This  throws  quite  a  new  light  upon  the  mat- 
ter," said  he.  "Now  we  can  understand  why  Mr. 
Jeffrey  uttered  that  extraordinary  avowal  over- 
heard on  the  bridge:  'She  must  die!'  She  had 
come  to  him  with  blood  on  her  hands." 

It  seemed  incredible,  nay  more,  unreal.  I  re- 
called the  sweet  refined  face  turned  up  to  me  from 
the  bare  boards  of  this  same  floor,  the  accounts  I 
had  read  of  the  vivacity  of  her  spirits  and  the  wild 
charm  of  her  manner  till  the  shadow  of  this  old 
house  fell  upon  her.  I  marveled,  still  feeling  my- 
self in  the  dark,  still  clinging  to  my  faith  in  wom- 
ankind, still  asking  to  what  depths  her  sister  had 
followed  her  in  the  mazes  of  crime  we  were  forced 
to  recognize  but  could  not  understand. 

Durbin  had  no  such  feelings  and  no  such  scru- 
ples, as  was  shown  by  the  sarcastic  comment  which 
now  left  his  lips. 

"So !"  he  cried,  "we  have  to  do  with  three  crim- 
inals instead  of  two.  Nice  family,  the  Moore- 
Jeffreys  !" 

But  no  one  paid  any  attention  to  him.  Address- 
ing the  major,  the  district  attorney  asked  when  he 
expected  to  hear  from  Denver,  adding  that  it  had 
now  become  of  the  first  importance  to  ascertain  the 
exact  relations  existing  between  the  persons  under 
suspicion  and  the  latest  victim  of  this  deadly 
mechanism. 


344  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

The  major's  answer  was  abrupt.  He  had  been 
expecting  a  report  for  days.  He  was  expecting  one 
yet.  If  it  came  in  at  any  time,  night  or  day,  he 
was  to  be  immediately  notified.  Word  might  be 
sent  him  in  an  hour,  in  a  minute. 

Were  his  remarks  a  prophecy?  He  had  hardly 
ceased  speaking  when  an  officer  appeared  with  a 
telegram  in  his  hand.  This  the  major  eagerly  took 
and,  noting  that  it  was  in  cipher,  read  it  by  means 
of  the  code  he  carried  in  his  pocket.  Translated, 
it  ran  thus : 

Result  of  open  inquiry  in  Denver. 

Three  brothers  Pf eiffer ;  all  well  thought  of,  but 
plain  in  their  ways  and  eccentric.  One  doing  busi- 
ness in  Denver.  Died  June,  '97.  One  perished  in 
Klondike,  October,  same  year;  and  one,  by  name 
Wallace,  died  suddenly  three  months  since  in  Wash- 
ington. 

Nothing  further  gained  by  secret  inquiry  in  this 
place. 

Result  of  open  inquiry  in  Owosso. 

A  man  named  Pf  eiffer  kept  a  store  in  Owosso 
during  the  time  V.  M.  attended  school  there.  He 
was  one  of  three  brothers,  home  Denver,  name  Wal- 
lace. Simultaneously  with  V.  M.'s  leaving  school, 
P.  broke  up  business  and  at  instigation  of  his  broth- 


WORDS  IN  THE  NIGHT  345 

er  William,  who  accompanied  him,  went  to  the 
Klondike.  No  especial  relation  between  lady  and 
this  same  P.  ever  noted.  V.  M.  once  heard  to  laugh 
at  his  awkward  ways. 

Result  of  secret  inquiry  in  Owosso. 

V.  M.  very  intimate  with  schoolmate  who  has 
since  died.  Often  rode  together;  once  gone  a  long 
time.  This  was  just  before  V.  M.  left  school  for 
good.  Date  same  as  that  on  which  a  marriage  oc- 
curred in  a  town  twenty  miles  distant.  Bride,  An- 
toinette Moore;  groom,  W.  Pfeiffer  of  Denver; 
witness,  young  girl  with  red  hair.  Schoolmate  had 
red  hair.  Had  V.  M.  a  middle  initial,  and  was  that 
initial  A? 

We  all  looked  at  each  other;  this  last  question 
was  one  none  of  us  could  answer. 

"Go  for  Mr.  Jeffrey  at  once,"  ordered  the  ma- 
jor, "and  let  another  one  of  you  bring  Miss  Tut- 
tle.  No  word  to  either  of  what  has  occurred  and  no 
hint  of  their  possible  meeting  here." 

It  fell  to  me  to  fetch  Miss  Tuttle.  I  was  glad 
of  this,  as  it  gave  me  a  few  minutes  by  myself  in 
which  to  compose  my  mind  and  adjust  my  thoughts 
to  the  new  conditions  opened  up  by  the  amazing 
facts  which  had  just  come  to  light.  But  beyond  the 
fact  that  Mrs.  Jeffrey  had  been  answerable  for  the 
death  which  had  occurred  in  the  library  at  the  time 


346  THE   FILIGREE    BALL 

of  her  marriage — that,  in  the  words  of  the  district 
attorney,  she  had  come  to  her  husband  with  blood 
on  her  hands, — my  thoughts  would  not  go;  con- 
fusion followed  the  least  attempt  to  settle  the  vital 
question  of  how  far  Miss  Tuttle  and  Mr.  Jeffrey 
had  been  involved  in  the  earlier  crime  and  what  the 
coming  interview  with  these  two  would  add  to  our 
present  knowledge.  In  my  anxiety  to  have  this 
question  answered  I  hastened  my  steps  and  was  soon 
at  the  door  of  Miss  Tuttle's  present  dwelling  place. 

I  had  not  seen  this  lady  since  the  inquest,  and  my 
heart  beat  high  as  I  sat  awaiting  her  appearance  in 
the  dim  little  parlor  where  I  had  been  seated  by 
the  person  who  held  her  under  secret  surveillance. 
The  scene  I  had  just  been  through,  the  uncertain 
nature  of  the  relations  held  by  this  beautiful  woman 
both  toward  the  crime  just  discovered  and  the  one 
long  associated  with  her  name,  lent  to  these  few 
moments  of  anticipation  an  emotion  which  poorly 
prepared  me  for  the  touching  sight  of  the  patient 
smile  with  which  she  presently  entered. 

But  I  doubt  if  she  noticed  my  agitation.  She 
was  too  much  swayed  by  her  own.  Advancing  upon 
me  in  all  the  unconscious  pride  of  her  great  beauty, 
she  tremulously  remarked : 

"You  have  a  message  for  me.  Is  it  from  head- 
quarters? Or  has  the  district  attorney  still  more 
questions  to  ask?" 


WORDS  IN  THE  NIGHT  347 

"I  have  a  much  more  trying  errand  than  that,"  I 
hastened  to  say,  with  some  idea  of  preparing  her 
for  an  experience  that  could  not  fail  to  be  one  of 
exceptional  trial.  "For  reasons  which  will  be  ex- 
plained to  you  by  those  in  greater  authority  than 
myself,  you  are  wanted  at  the  house  where — 
where — '  I  could  not  help  stammering  under  the 
light  of  her  melancholy  eyes — "where  I  saw  you 
once  before,"  I  lamely  concluded. 

"The  house  in  Waverley  Avenue?"  she  objected 
wildly,  with  the  first  signs  of  positive  terror  I  had 
ever  beheld  in  her. 

I  nodded,  dropping  my  eyes.  What  call  had  I  to 
penetrate  the  conscience  of  this  woman? 

"Are  they  there?  all  there?"  she  presently  asked 
again.  "The  police  and — and  Mr.  Jeffrey  ?" 

"Madam,"  I  respectfully  protested,  "my  duty  is 
limited  to  conducting  you  to  the  place  named.  A 
carriage  is  waiting.  May  I  beg  that  you  will  pre- 
pare yourself  to  go  at  once  to  Waverley  Avenue?" 

For  answer  she  subjected  me  to  a  long  and  ear- 
nest look  which  I  found  it  impossible  to  evade. 
Then  she  hastened  from  the  room,  but  with  very 
unsteady  steps.  Evidently  the  courage  which  had 
upborne  her  so  long  was  beginning  to  fail.  Her 
very  countenance  was  changed.  Had  she  recog- 
nized, as  I  meant  she  should,  that  the  secret  of  the 
Moore  house  was  no  longer  a  secret  confined  to  her 


348  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

own  breast  and  to  that  of  her  unhappy  brother-in- 
law? 

When  she  returned  ready  for  her  ride  this  change 
in  her  spirits  was  less  observable,  and  by  the  time 
we  had  reached  the  house  in  Waverley  Avenue  she 
had  so  far  regained  her  old  courage  as  to  move 
and  speak  with  the  calmness  of  despair  if  not  of 
mental  serenity. 

The  major  was  awaiting  us  at  the  door  and 
bowed  gravely  before  her  heavily  veiled  figure. 

"Miss  Tuttle,"  he  asked,  without  any  preamble, 
the  moment  she  was  well  inside  the  house,  "may  I 
inquire  of  you  here,  and  before  I  show  you  what 
will  excuse  us  for  subjecting  you  to  the  distress  of 
entering  these  doors,  whether  your  sister,  Mrs.  Jef- 
frey, had  any  other  name  or  was  ever  known  by  any 
other  name  than  that  of  Veronica?" 

"She  was  christened  Antoinette,  as  well  as  Veron- 
ica; but  the  person  in  whose  memory  the  former 
name  was  given  her  was  no  honor  to  the  family  and 
she  very  soon  dropped  it  and  was  only  known  as 
Veronica.  Oh,  what  have  I  done?"  she  cried,  awed 
and  frightened  by  the  silence  which  followed  the 
utterance  of  these  simple  words. 

No  one  answered  her.  For  the  first  time  in  her 
presence,  the  minds  of  those  who  faced  her  were 
with  another  than  herself.  The  bride !  the  unhappy 
bride — no  maiden  but  a  wife !  nay,  a  wife  one  min^ 


WORDS  IN  THE  NIGHT  349 

ute,  a  widow  the  next,  and  then  again  a  newly- 
wedded  bride  before  the  husband  lying  below  was 
cold !  What  wonder  that  she  shrank  when  her  new- 
made  bridegroom's  lips  approached  her  own!  or 
that  their  honeymoon  was  a  disappointment!  Or 
that  the  shadow  which  fell  upon  her  on  that  evil  day 
never  left  her  till  she  gave  herself  wholly  up  to  its 
influence  and  returned  to  die  on  the  spot  made  aw- 
ful by  her  own  crime. 

Before  any  of  us  were  quite  ready  to  speak,  a  tap 
at  the  door  told  us  that  Durbin  had  arrived  with 
Mr.  Jeffrey.  When  they  had  been  admitted  and  the 
latter  saw  Miss  Tuttle  standing  there,  he,  too, 
seemed  to  realize  that  a  turn  had  come  in  their  af- 
fairs, and  that  courage  rather  than  endurance  was 
the  quality  most  demanded  from  him.  Facing  the 
small  group  clustered  in  the  dismal  hall  fraught 
with  such  unutterable  associations,  he  earnestly 
prayed : 

"Do  not  keep  me  in  suspense.  Why  am  I  sum- 
moned here?" 

The  reply  was  as  grave  as  the  occasion  war- 
ranted. 

"You  are  summoned  to  learn  the  murderous  se- 
cret of  these  old  walls,  and  who  it  was  that  last 
made  use  of  it.  Do  you  feel  inclined  to  hear  these 
details  from  my  lips,  or  are  you  ready  to  state  that 
you  already  know  the  means  by  which  so  many  per- 


350  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

sons,  in  times  past  as  well  as  in  times  present,  have 
met  death  here?  We  do  not  require  you  to  answer 
us." 

"I  know  the  means,"  he  allowed,  recognizing 
without  doubt  that  the  crisis  of  crises  had  come,  and 
that  denial  would  be  worse  than  useless. 

"Then  it  only  remains  for  us  to  acquaint  you 
with  the  identity  of  the  person  who  last  pressed  the 
fatal  spring.  But  perhaps  you  know  that,  too  ?" 

"I — "  He  paused ;  words  were  impossible  to  him ; 
and  in  that  pause  his  eyes  flashed  helplessly  in  the 
direction  of  Miss  Tuttle. 

But  the  major  was  quick  on  his  feet  and  was  al- 
ready between  him  and  that  lady.  This  act  forced 
from  Mr.  Jeffrey's  lips  the  following  broken  sen- 
tence : 

"I  should — like — you — to — tell — me."  Great 
gasps  came  with  each  heavily  spoken  word. 

"Perhaps  this  morsel  of  lace  will  do  it  in  a  gen- 
tler manner  than  I  could,"  responded  the  district 
attorney,  opening  his  hand,  in  which  lay  the  scrap 
of  lace  that,  an  hour  or  so  before,  I  had  plucked 
away  from  the  boarding  of  that  fatal  closet. 

Mr.  Jeffrey  eyed  it  and  understood.  His  hands 
went  up  to  his  face  and  he  swayed  to  the  point  of 
falling.  Miss  Tuttle  came  quickly  forward. 

"Oh!"  she  moaned,  as  her  eyes  fell  on  the  little 
white  shred.  "The  providence  of  God  has  found 


WORDS  IN  THE  NIGHT  351 

as  out.  We  have  suffered,  labored  and  denied  in 
vain." 

"Yes,"  came  in  dreary  echo  from  the  man 
none  of  us  had  understood  till  now;  "so  great  a 
crime  could  not  be  hid.  God  will  have  vengeance. 
What  are  we  that  we  should  hope  to  avert  it  by  any 
act  or  at  any  cost?" 

The  major,  with  his  eyes  fixed  piercingly  on 
this  miserable  man,  replied  with  one  pregnant  sen- 
tence : 

"Then  you  forced  your  wife  to  suicide?" 

"No,"  he  began ;  but  before  another  word  could 
follow,  Miss  Tuttle,  resplendent  in  beauty  and 
beaming  with  new  life,  broke  in  with  the  fervid 
cry: 

"You  wrong  him  and  you  wrong  her  by  such  a 
suggestion.  It  was  not  her  husband  but  her  con- 
science that  forced  her  to  this  retributive  act.  What 
Mr.  Jeffrey  might  have  done  had  she  proved  ob- 
durate and  blind  to  the  enormity  of  her  own  guilt, 
I  do  not  know.  But  that  he  is  innocent  of  so  in- 
fluencing her  is  proved  by  the  shock  he  suffered  at 
finding  she  had  taken  her  punishment  into  her  own 
hands." 

"Mr.  Jeffrey  will  please  answer  the  question," 
insisted  the  major.  Whereupon  the  latter,  with 
great  effort,  but  with  the  first  appearance  of  real 
candor  yet  seen  in  him,  said  earnestly: 


352  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

"I  did  nothing  to  influence  her.  I  was  in  no  con- 
dition to  do  so.  I  was  benumbed — dead.  When 
first  she  told  me, — it  was  in  some  words  muttered  in 
her  sleep — I  thought  she  was  laboring  under 
some  fearful  nightmare;  but  when  she  persisted, 
and  I  questioned  her,  and  found  the  horror  true,  I 
was  like  a  man  turned  instantly  into  stone,  save  for 
one  intolerable  throb  within.  I  am  still  so ;  every- 
thing passes  by  me  like  a  dream.  She  was  so  young, 
seemingly  so  innocent  and  light-hearted.  I  loved 
her!  Gentlemen,  you  have  thought  me  guilty 
of  my  wife's  death, — this  young  fairy-like  creature 
to  whom  I  ascribed  all  the  virtues!  and  I  was  will- 
ing, willing  that  you  should  think  so,  willing  even 
to  face  the  distrust  and  opprobrium  of  the  whole 
world, — and  so  was  her  sister,  the  noble  woman 
whom  you  see  before  you — rather  than  that  the  full 
horror  of  her  crime  should  be  known  and  a  name 
so  dear  be  given  up  to  execration.  We  thought  we 
could  keep  the  secret — we  felt  that  we  must  keep 
the  secret — we  took  an  oath — in  French — in  the 
carriage — with  the  detectives  opposite  us.  She 
kept  it — God  bless  her !  7  kept  it.  But  it  was  all 
useless — a  tiny  bit  of  lace  is  found  hanging  to  a 
lifeless  splinter,  and  all  our  efforts,  all  the  hopes 
and  agony  of  weeks  are  gone  for  naught.  The 
world  will  soon  know  of  her  awful  deed — and  I — " 


WORDS  IN  THE  NIGHT  353 

He  still  loved  her !  That  was  apparent  in  every 
look,  in  every  word  he  uttered.  We  marveled  in 
awkward  silence,  and  were  glad  when  the  major 
said: 

"The  deed,  as  I  take  it,  was  an  unpremeditated 
one  on  her  part.  Is  that  why  her  honor  was  dearer 
to  you  than  your  own,  and  why  you  could  risk  the 
reputation  if  not  the  life  of  the  woman  who  you 
say  sacrificed  herself  to  it?" 

"Yes,  it  was  unpremeditated ;  she  hardly  realized 
her  act.  If  you  must  know  her  heart  through  all 
this  dreadful  business,  we  have  her  words  to  show 
you — words  which  she  spent  the  last  miserable  day 
of  her  life  in  writing.  The  few  lines  which  I 
showed  the  captain  and  which  have  been  published 
to  the  world  was  an  inclosure  meant  for  the  public 
eye.  The  real  letter,  telling  the  whole  terrible 
truth,  I  kept  for  myself  and  for  the  sister  who  al- 
ready knew  her  sin.  Oh,  we  did  everything  we 
could!"  And  he  again  moaned:  "But  it  was  in 
vain;  quite  in  vain." 

There  were  no  signs  of  subterfuge  in  him  now, 
and  we  all,  unless  I  except  Durbin,  began  to  yield 
him  credence.  Durbin  never  gives  credence  to  any- 
body whose  name  he  has  once  heard  associated  with 
crime. 

"And  this  Pfeiffer  was  contracted  to  her?  A  man 


354  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

she  had  secretly  married  while  a  school-girl  and 
who  at  this  very  critical  instant  had  found  his  way 
to  the  house — " 

"You  shall  read  her  letter.  It  was  meant  for 
me,  for  me  only — but  you  shall  see  it.  I  can  not 
talk  of  him  or  of  her  crime.  It  is  enough  that  I 
have  been  unable  to  think  of  anything  else  since 
first  those  dreadful  words  fell  from  her  lips  in 
sleep,  thirty-six  hours  before  she  died."  Then 
with  the  inconsistency  of  great  anguish  he  suddenly 
broke  forth  into  the  details  he  shrank  from  and 
cried : 

"She  muttered,  lying  there,  that  she  was  no  big- 
amist. That  she  had  killed  one  husband  before  she 
married  the  other.  Killed  him  in  the  old  house  and 
by  the  method  her  ancestors  had  taught  her.  And 
I,  risen  on  my  elbow,  listened,  with  the  sweat  oozing 
from  my  forehead,  but  not  believing  her,  oh,  not  be- 
lieving her,  any  more  than  any  one  of  you  would 
believe  such  words  uttered  in  a  dream  by  the  dar- 
ling of  your  heart.  But  when,  with  a  long-drawn 
sigh,  she  murmured,  'Murderer!'  and  raised  her 
fists — tiny  fists,  hands  which  I  had  kissed  a  thou- 
sand times — and  shook  them  in  the  air,  an  awful 
terror  seized  me,  and  I  sought  to  grasp  them  and 
hold  them  down,  but  was  hindered  by  some  name- 
less inner  recoil  under  which  I  could  not  speak, 
nor  gasp,  nor  move.  Of  course,  it  was  some 


WORDS  IN  THE  NIGHT  355 

dream-horror  she  was  laboring  under,  a  nightmare 
of  unimaginable  acts  and  thoughts,  but  it  was  one 
to  hold  me  back ;  and  when  she  lay  quiet  again  and 
her  face  resumed  its  old  sweetness  in  the  moonlight, 
I  found  myself  staring  at  her  almost  as  if  it  were 
true — what  she  had  said — that  word — that  awful 
word  which  no  woman  could  use  with  regard  to 
herself,  even  in  dreams,  unless — Something,  an 
echo  from  the  discordant  chord  in  our  two  weeks' 
married  life,  rose  like  the  confirmation  of  a  doubt 
in  my  shocked  and  rebellious  breast.  From  that 
hour  till  dawn  nothing  in  that  slowly  brightening 
room  seemed  real,  not  her  face  lying  buried  in  its 
youthful  locks  upon  the  pillow,  not  the  objects 
well-known  and  well-prized  by  which  we  were  sur- 
rounded— not  myself — most  of  all,  not  myself,  un- 
less the  icy  dew  oozing  from  the  roots  of  my  lifted 
hair  was  real,  unless  that  shape,  fearsome,  vague, 
but  persistent,  which  hovered  in  the  shadows  above 
us,  drawing  a  line  of  eternal  separation  between  me 
and  my  wife,  was  a  thing  which  could  be  caught  and 
strangled  and — Oh!  I  rave!  I  chatter  like  a  mad- 
man ;  but  I  did  not  rave  that  night.  Nor  did  I 
rave  when,  in  the  bright,  broad  sunlight,  her  eyes 
slowly  unclosed  and  she  started  to  see  me  bending  so 
near  her,  but  not  with  my  usual  kiss  or  glad  good 
morning.  I  could  not  question  her  then ;  I  dared 
not.  The  smile  which  slowly  rose  to  her  lips  was 


356         THE  FILIGREE  BALL 

too  piteous — it  showed  confidence.  I  waited  till 
after  breakfast.  Then,  while  she  was  seated  where 
she  could  not  see  my  face,  I  whispered  the  question : 
'Do  you  know  that  you  have  had  a  horrible  dream?' 
She  shrieked  and  turned.  I  saw  her  face  and 
knew  that  what  she  had  uttered  in  her  sleep  was 
true. 

"I  have  no  remembrance  of  what  I  said  to  her. 
She  tried  to  tell  me  how  she  had  been  tempted  and 
how  she  had  not  realized  her  own  act,  till  the  mo- 
ment I  bent  down  to  kiss  her  lips  as  her  husband. 
But  I  did  not  stop  to  listen — I  could  not.  I  flew 
immediately  to  Miss  Tuttle  with  the  violent  demand 
as  to  whether  she  knew  that  her  sister  was  already 
a  wife  when  she  married  me,  and  when  she  cried 
out  'No!'  and  showed  great  dismay,  I  broke  forth 
with  the  dreadful  tale  and  cowered  in  unmanly  an- 
guish at  her  feet,  and  went  mad  and  lost  myself  for 
a  little  while.  Then  I  went  back  to  my  wretched 
wife  and  asked  her  how  the  awful  deed  had  been 
done.  She  told  me,  and  again  I  did  not  believe 
her  and  began  to  look  upon  it  all  as  some  wild  dream 
or  the  distempered  fancies  of  a  disordered  brain. 
This  thought  calmed  me  and  I  spoke  gently  to  her 
and  even  tried  to  take  her  hand.  But  she  her- 
self was  raving  now,  and  clung  about  my  knees, 
murmuring  words  of  such  anguish  and  contrition 
that  my  worst  fears  returned  and,  only  stopping 


WORDS  IN  THE  NIGHT  357 

to  take  the  key  of  the  Moore  house  from  my  bu- 
reau, I  left  the  house  and  wandered  madly — I  know 
not  where. 

"I  did  not  go  back  that  day.  I  could  not  face 
her  again  till  I  knew  how  much  of  her  confession 
was  fancy  and  how  much  was  fact.  I  roamed  the 
streets,  carrying  that  key  from  one  end  of  the  city 
to  the  other,  and  at  night  I  used  it  to  open  the 
house  which  she  had  declared  contained  so  dreadful 
a  secret. 

"I  had  bought  candles  on  my  way  there  but,  for- 
getting to  take  them  from  the  store,  I  had  no  light 
with  which  to  penetrate  the  horrible  place  that  even 
the  moon  refused  to  illumine.  I  realized  this  when 
once  in,  but  would  not  go  back.  All  I  have  told 
about  using  matches  to  light  me  to  the  southwest 
chamber  is  true,  also  my  coming  upon  the  old  can- 
delabrum there,  with  a  candle  in  one  of  its  sockets. 
This  candle  I  lit,  my  sole  reason  for  seeking  this 
room  being  my  desire  to  examine  the  antique  sketch 
for  the  words  which  she  had  said  could  be  found 
there. 

"I  had  failed  to  bring  a  magnifying-glass  with 
me,  but  my  eyes  are  phenomenally  sharp.  Know- 
ing where  to  look,  I  was  able  to  pick  out  enough 
words  here  and  there  in  the  lines  composing  the 
hair,  to  feel  quite  sure  that  my  wife  had  neither 
Deceived  me  nor  been  deceived  as  to  certain  4i- 


358  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

rections  being  embodied  there  in  writing.  Shaken 
in  my  last  lingering  hope,  but  not  yet  quite  con- 
vinced that  these  words  pointed  to  outrageous 
crime,  I  flew  next  to  the  closet  and  drew  out  the 
fatal  drawer. 

"You  have  been  there  and  know  what  the  place 
is,  but  no  one  but  myself  can  ever  realize  what  it 
was  for  me,  still  loving,  still  clinging  to  a  wild  in- 
consequent belief  in  my  wife,  to  grope  in  that 
mouth  of  hell  for  the  spring  she  had  chattered 
about  in  her  sleep,  to  find  it,  press  it,  and  then  to 
hear,  down  in  the  dark  of  the  fearsome  recess,  the 
sound  of  something  deadly  strike  against  what  I 
took  to  be  the  cushions  of  the  old  settle  standing 
at  the  edge  of  the  library  hearthstone. 

"I  think  I  must  have  fainted.  For  when  I  found 
myself  possessed  of  sufficient  consciousness  to  with- 
draw from  that  hole  of  death,  the  candle  in  the 
candelabrum  was  shorter  by  an  inch  than  when  I 
first  thrust  my  head  into  the  gap  made  by  the 
removed  drawers.  In  putting  back  the  drawers  I 
hit  the  candelabrum  with  my  foot,  upsetting  it  and 
throwing  out  the  burning  candle.  As  the  flames 
began  to  lick  the  worm-eaten  boarding  of  the  floor 
a  momentary  impulse  seized  me  to  rush  away  and 
leave  the  whole  place  to  burn.  But  I  did  not. 
With  a  sudden  frenzy,  I  stamped  out  the  flame,  and 
then  finding  myself  in  darkness,  groped  my  way 


WORDS  IN  THE  NIGHT  359 

downstairs  and  out.  If  I  entered  the  library  I  do 
not  remember  it.  Some  lapses  must  be  pardoned 
a  man  involved  as  I  was." 

"But  the  fact  which  you  dismiss  so  lightly  is  an 
important  one,"  insisted  the  major.  "We  must 
know  positively  whether  you  entered  this  room  or 
not." 

"I  have  no  recollection  of  doing  so." 

"Then  you  can  not  tell  us  whether  the  little 
table  was  standing  there,  with  the  candelabrum 
upon  it  or — " 

"I  can  tell  you  nothing  about  it." 

The  major,  after  a  long  look  at  this  suffering 
man,  turned  toward  Miss  Tuttle. 

"You  must  have  loved  your  sister  very  much," 
he  sententiously  remarked. 

She  flushed  and  for  the  first  time  her  eyes  fell 
from  their  resting-place  on  Mr.  Jeffrey's  face. 

"I  loved  her  reputation,"  was  her  quiet  answer, 
"and — "  The  rest  died  in  her  throat. 

But  we  all — such  of  us,  I  mean,  who  were  pos- 
sessed of  the  least  sensibility  or  insight,  knew  how 
that  sentence  sounded  as  finished  in  her  heart — 
"and  I  loved  him  who  asked  this  sacrifice  of  me." 

Yet  was  her  conduct  not  quite  clear. 

"And  to  save  that  reputation  you  tied  the  pistol 
to  her  wrist?"  insinuated  the  major. 

"No,"  was  her  vekement  reply.     "I  never  knew 


360  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

what  I  was  tying  to  her.  My  testimony  in  that 
regard  was  absolutely  true.  She  held  the  pistol 
concealed  in  the  folds  of  her  dress.  I  did  not 
dream — I  could  not — that  she  was  contemplating 
any  such  end  to  the  atrocious  crime  to  which  she 
had  confessed.  Her  manner  was  too  light,  too  airy 
and  too  frivolous — a  manner  adopted,  as  I  now  see, 
to  forestall  all  questions  and  hold  back  all  expres- 
sions of  feeling  on  my  part.  'Tie  these  hanging 
ends  of  ribbon  to  my  wrist,'  were  her  words.  'Tie 
them  tight ;  a  knot  under  and  a  bow  on  top.  I  am 
going  out —  There,  don't  say  anything —  What 
you  want  to  talk  about  will  keep  till  to-morrow. 
For  one  night  more  I  am  going  to  make  merry — 
to — to  enjoy  myself.'  She  was  laughing.  I 
thought  her  horribly  callous  and  trembled  with 
such  an  unspeakable  repulsion  that  I  had  difficulty 
in  making  the  knot.  To  speak  at  all  would 
have  been  impossible.  Neither  did  I  dare  to  look 
in  her  face.  I  was  touching  the  hand  that — 
and  she  kept  on  laughing — such  a  hollow  laugh 
covering  up  such  an  awful  resolve!  When  she 
turned  to  give  me  that  last  injunction  about  the 
note,  this  resolve  glared  still  in  her  eyes." 

"And  you  never  suspected?" 

"Not  for  an  instant.  I  did  not  do  justice  either 
to  her  misery  or  to  her  conscience.  I  fear  that  I 
have  never  done  her  justice  in  any  way.  I  thought 


WORDS  IN  THE  NIGHT  361 

her  light,  pleasure-loving.  I  did  not  know  that  it 
was  assumed  to  hide  a  terrible  secret." 

"Then  you  had  no  knowledge  of  the  contract 
she  had  entered  into  while  a  school-girl?" 

"Not  in  the  least.  Another  woman,  and  not 
myself,  had  been  her  confidante ;  a  woman  who  has 
since  died.  No  intimation  of  her  first  unfortu- 
nate marriage  had  ever  reached  me  till  Mr.  Jeffrey 
rushed  in  upon  me  that  Tuesday  morning  with  her 
dreadful  confession  on  his  lips." 

The  district  attorney,  who  did  not  seem  quite 
satisfied  on  a  certain  point  passed  over  by  the  ma- 
jor, now  took  the  opportunity  of  saying: 

"You  assure  us  that  you  had  no  idea  that  this 
once  light-hearted  sister  of  yours  meditated  sui- 
cide when  she  left  you?" 

"And  I  repeat  it,  sir." 

"Then  why  did  you  immediately  go  to  Mr.  Jef- 
frey's drawer,  where  you  could  have  no  business, 
unless  it  was  to  see  if  she  had  taken  his  pistol  with 
her?" 

Miss  Tuttle's  head  fell  and  a  soft  flush  broke 
through  the  pallor  of  her  cheek. 

"Because  I  was  thinking  of  him.  Because  I  was 
terrified  for  him.  He  had  left  the  house  the  morn- 
ing before  in  a  half-maddened  condition  and  had 
not  come  back  to  sleep  or  eat  since.  I  did  not 
know  what  a  man  so  outraged  in  every  sacred  feel- 


362  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

ing  of  love  and  honor  might  be  tempted  to  do. 
I  thought  of  suicide.  I  remembered  the  old  house 
and  how  he  had  said,  'I  don't  believe  her.  I 
don't  believe  she  ever  did  so  cold-blooded  an  act,  or 
that  any  such  dreadful  machinery  is  in  that  house. 
I  never  shall  believe  it  till  I  have  seen  and  handled 
it  myself.  It  is  a  nightmare,  Cora.  We  are  in- 
sane.' I  thought  of  this,  sirs,  and  when  I  went 
into  her  room,  to  change  the  place  of  the  little  note 
in  the  book,  I  went  to  his  bureau  drawer,  not  to  look 
for  the  pistol — I  did  not  think  of  that  then, — but 
to  see  if  the  keys  of  the  Moore  house  were  still  there. 
I  knew  that  they  were  kept  in  this  drawer,  for  I 
had  been  present  in  the  room  when  they  were 
brought  in  after  the  wedding.  I  had  also  been 
short-sighted  enough  to  conclude  that  if  they  were 
gone  it  was  he  who  had  taken  them.  They  were 
gone,  and  that  was  why  I  flew  immediately  from 
the  house  to  the  old  place  in  Waverley  Avenue.  I 
was  concerned  for  Mr.  Jeffrey!  I  feared  to  find 
him  there,  demented  or  dead." 

"But  you  had  no  key." 

"No.  Mr.  Jeffrey  had  taken  one  of  them  and 
my  sister  the  other.  But  the  lack  of  a  key  or 
even  of  a  light — for  the  missing  candles  were  not 
taken  by  me* — could  not  keep  me  at  home  after 

^  *We  afterwards  found  that  these  candles  were  never  de- 
livered at  the  house  at  all ;  that  they  had  been  placed  in 
the  wrong  basket  and  left  in  a  neighboring  kitchen. 


WORDS  IN  THE  NIGHT  363 

I  was  once  convinced  that  he  had  gone  to  this  dread- 
ful house.  If  I  could  not  get  in  I  could  at  least 
hammer  at  the  door  or  rouse  the  neighbors.  Some- 
thing must  be  done.  I  did  not  think  what;  I 
merely  flew." 

"Did  you  know  that  the  house  had  two  keys?" 

"Not  then." 

"But  your  sister  did?" 

"Probably." 

"And  finding  the  only  key,  as  you  supposed, 
gone,  you  flew  to  the  Moore  house?" 

"Immediately." 

"And  now  what  else?" 

"I  found  the  door  unlocked." 

"That  was  done  by  Mrs.  Jeffrey?" 

"Yes,  but  I  did  not  think  of  her  then." 

"And  you  went  in?" 

"Yes;  it  was  all  dark,  but  I  felt  my  way  till  I 
came  to  the  gilded  pillars." 

"Why  did  you  go  there?" 

"Because  I  felt — I  knew— if  he  were  anywhere 
in  that  house  he  would  be  there!'' 

"And  why  did  you  stop?" 

I  Her  voice  rose  above  its  usual  quiet  pitch  in 
shrill  protest: 

"You  know!  you  know!  I  heard  a  pistol-shot 
from  within,  then  a  fall.  I  don't  remember  any- 
thing else.  They  say  I  went  wandering  about 


364.  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

town.  Perhaps  I  did;  it  is  all  a  blank  to  me— 
everything  is  a  blank  till  the  policeman  said  that 
my  sister  was  dead  and  I  learned  for  the  first  time 
that  the  shot  I  had  heard  in  the  Moore  house  was 
not  the  signal  of  his  death,  but  hers.  Had  I  been 
myself  when  at  that  library  door,"  she  added,  after 
a  moment  of  silence,  "I  would  have  rushed  in  at 
the  sound  of  that  shot  and  have  received  my  sis- 
ter's dying  breath." 

"Cora1"  The  cry  was  from  Mr.  Jeffrey,  and 
seemed  to  be  quite  involuntary.  "In  the  weeks 
during  which  we  have  been  kept  from  speaking  to- 
gether I  have  turned  all  these  events  over  in  my 
mind  till  I  longed  for  any  respite,  even  that  of  the 
grave.  But  in  all  my  thinking  I  never  attributed 
this  motive  to  your  visit  here.  Will  you  forgive 
me?" 

There  was  a  new  tone  in  his  voice,  a  tone  which 
no  woman  could  hear  without  emotion. 

"You  had  other  things  to  think  of,"  she  said, 
and  her  lips  trembled.  Never  have  I  seen  on  the 
human  face  a  more  beautiful  expression  than  I 
saw  on  hers  at  that  moment;  nor  do  I  think  Mr. 
Jeffrey  had  either,  for  as  he  marked  it  his  own 
regard  softened  almost  to  tenderness. 

The  major  had  no  time  for  sentimentalities. 
Turning  to  Mr.  Jeffrey,  he  said : 

"One  more  question  before  we  send  for  the  let- 


WORDS  IN  THE  NIGHT  365 

ter  which  you  say  will  give  us  full  insight  into  your 
wife's  crime.  Do  you  remember  what  occurred  on 
the  bridge  at  Georgetown  just  before  you  came 
into  town  that  night?" 

He  shook  his  head. 

"Did  you  meet  any  one  there?" 

"I  do  not  know." 

"Can  you  remember  your  state  of  mind?" 

"I  was  facing  the  future." 

"And  what  did  you  see  in  the  future?" 

"Death.  Death  for  her  and  death  for  me !  A 
crime  was  on  her  soul  and  she  must  die,  and  if  she, 
then  myself.  I  knew  no  other  course.  I  could 
not  summon  the  police,  point  out  my  bride  of  a 
fortnight  and,  with  the  declaration  that  she  had 
been  betrayed  into  killing  a  man,  coldly  deliver 
her  up  to  justice.  Neither  could  I  live  at  her  side 
knowing  the  guilty  secret  which  parted  us ;  or  live 
anywhere  in  the  world  under  this  same  conscious- 
ness. Therefore,  I  meant  to  kill  myself  before 
another  sun  rose.  But  she  was  more  deeply  strick- 
en with  a  sense  of  her  own  guilt  than  I  realized. 
When  I  returned  home  for  the  pistol  which  was  to 
end  our  common  misery  I  found  that  she  had  taken 
her  punishment  into  her  own  hands.  This  strange- 
ly affected  me,  but  when  I  found  that,  in  doing 
this,  she  had  remembered  that  I  should  have  to 
face  the  world  after  she  was  gone,  and  so  left  a 


366  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

few  lines  for  me  to  show  in  explanation  of  her 
act,  my  revolt  against  her  received  a  check  which 
the  reading  of  her  letter  only  increased.  But 
the  lines  she  thus  wrote  and  left  were  not  true 
lines.  All  her  heart  was  mine,  and  if  it  was  a 
wicked  heart  she  has  atoned — " 

He  paused,  quite  overcome.  Others  amongst  us 
were  overcome,  too,  but  only  for  a  moment.  The 
following  remark  from  the  district  attorney  soon 
recalled  us  to  the  practical  aspects  of  the  case. 

"You  have  accounted  for  many  facts  not  hither- 
to understood.  But  there  is  still  a  very  important 
one  which  neither  yourself  nor  Miss  Tuttle  has 
yet  made  plain.  There  was  a  candle  on  the  scene 
of  crime ;  it  was  out  when  this  officer  arrived  here. 
There  was  also  one  found  burning  in  the  upstairs 
room,  aside  from  the  one  you  professedly  used  in 
your  tour  of  inspection  there.  Whence  came  those 
candles?  And  did  your  wife  blow  out  the  one  in 
the  library  herself,  previous  to  the  shooting,  or 
was  it  blown  out  afterward  and  by  other  lips  ?" 

"These  are  questions  which,  as  I  have  already 
said,  I  have  no  means  of  answering,"  repeated  Mr. 
Jeffrey.  "The  courage  which  brought  her  here 
may  have  led  her  to  supply  herself  with  light;  and, 
hard  as  it  is  to  conceive,  she  may  even  have  found 
nerve  to  blow  out  the  light  before  she  lifted  the 
pistol  to  her  breast." 


WORDS  IN  THE  NIGHT  367 

The  district  attorney  and  the  major  looked  un- 
convinced, and  the  latter,  turning  toward  Miss  Tut- 
tle,  asked  if  she  had  any  remark  to  make  on  the 
subject. 

But  she  could  only  repeat  Mr.  Jeffrey's  state- 
ment. 

"These  are  questions  /  can  not  answer  either.  I 
have  said  that  I  stopped  at  the  library  door,  which 
means  that  I  saw  nothing  of  what  passed  within." 

Here  the  major  asked  where  Mrs.  Jeffrey's  letter 
was  to  be  found.  It  was  Mr.  Jeffrey  who  replied : 

"Search  in  my  room  for  a  book  with  an  outside 
cover  of  paper  still  on  it.  You  will  probably  find 
it  on  my  table.  The  inner  cover  is  red.  Bring 
that  book  here.  Our  secret  is  hidden  in  it." 

Durbin  disappeared  on  this  errand.  I  followed 
him  as  far  as  the  door,  but  I  did  not  think  it  neces- 
sary to  state  that  I  had  seen  this  book  lying  on  the 
table  when  I  paid  my  second  visit  to  Mr.  Jeffrey's 
room  in  company  with  the  coroner.  The  thought 
that  my  hand  had  been  within  reach  of  this  man's 
secret  so  many  weeks  before  was  sufficiently  humil- 
iating without  being  shared. 


XXIV 

TANTALIZING    TACTICS 

I  made  my  way  to  the  front  door,  but  returned 
almost  immediately.  Drawing  the  major  aside,  I 
whispered  a  request,  which  led  to  a  certain  small 
article  being  passed  over  to  me,  after  which  I 
sauntered  out  on  the  stoop  just  in  time  to  encounter 
the  spruce  but  irate  figure  of  Mr.  Moore,  who  had 
crossed  from  the  opposite  side. 

"Ah!"  said  I.  "Good  morning!"  and  made  him 
my  most  deferential  bow. 

He  glared  and  Rudge  glared  from  his  place  on 
the  farther  curb.  Evidently  the  police  were  not 
in  favor  with  the  occupants  of  the  cottage  that 
morning. 

"When  is  this  to  cease?"  he  curtly  demanded. 
"When  are  these  early-morning  trespasses  upon 
an  honest  citizen's  property  coming  to  an  end? 
I  wake  with  a  light  heart,  expecting  that  my  house, 
which  is  certainly  as  much  mine  as  is  any  man's  in 
Washington,  would  be  handed  over  this  very  day 
for  my  habitation,  when  what  do  I  see — one  po- 
368 


TANTALIZING  TACTICS  369 

lice  officer  leaving  the  front  door  and  another  sun- 
ning himself  in  the  vestibule.  How  many  more 
of  you  are  within  I  do  not  presume  to  ask.  Some 
half-dozen,  no  doubt,  and  not  one  of  you  smart 
enough  to  wind  up  this  matter  and  have  done  with 
it." 

"Ah!  I  don't  know  about  that,"  I  drawled,  and 
looked  very  wise. 

His  curiosity  was  aroused. 

"Anything  new?"  he  snapped. 

"Possibly,"  I  returned,  in  a  way  to  exasperate 
a  saint. 

He  stepped  on  to  the  porch  beside  me.  I  was  too 
abstracted  to  notice;  I  was  engaged  in  eying 
Rudge. 

"Do  you  know,"  said  I,  after  an  instant  of  what 
I  meant  should  be  one  of  uncomfortable  suspense  on 
his  part,  "that  I  have  a  greater  respect  than  ever 
for  that  animal  of  yours  since  learning  the  very 
good  reason  he  has  for  refusing  to  cross  the 
street?" 

"Ha!  what's  that?"  he  asked,  with  a  quick  look 
behind  him  at  the  watchful  brute  straining  toward 
him  with  nose  over  the  gutter. 

"He  sees  farther  than  we  can.  His  eyes  pene- 
trate walls  and  partitions,"  I  remarked.  Then, 
carelessly  and  with  the  calm  drawing  forth  of  a 
folded  bit  of  paper  which  I  held  out  toward  him. 


370  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

I  added:  "By  the  way,  here  is  something  of 
yours." 

His  hand  rose  instinctively  to  take  it;  then 
dropped. 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  he  remarked. 
"You  have  nothing  of  mine." 

"No?  Then  John  Judson  Moore  had  another 
brother."  And  I  thrust  the  paper  back  into  my 
pocket. 

He  followed  it  with  his  eye.  It  was  the  memo- 
randum I  had  found  in  the  old  book  of  memoirs 
plucked  from  the  library  shelf  within,  and  he  rec- 
ognized it  for  his  and  saw  that  I  did  also.  But 
he  failed  to  show  the  white  feather. 

"You  are  good  at  ransacking,"  he  observed; 
"pity  that  it  can  not  be  done  to  more  purpose." 

I  smiled  and  made  a  fresh  start.  With  my 
hand  thrust  again  into  my  pocket,  I  remarked, 
without  even  so  much  as  a  glance  at  him : 

"I  fear  that  you  do  some  injustice  to  the  police. 
We  are  not  such  bad  fellows;  neither  do  we  waste 
as  much  time  as  you  seem  to  think."  And  draw- 
ing out  my  hand,  with  the  little  filigree  ball  in  it, 
I  whirled  the  latter  innocently  round  and  round  on 
my  finger.  As  it  flashed  under  his  eye,  I  cast  him 
a  penetrating  look. 

He  tried  to  carry  the  moment  off  successfully; 
I  will  give  him  so  much  credit.  But  it  was  asking 


TANTALIZING  TACTICS  371 

too  much  of  his  curiosity,  and  there  was  no  mis- 
taking the  eager  glitter  which  lighted  his  glance 
as  he  saw  within  his  reach  this  article  which  a  mo- 
ment before  he  had  probably  regarded  as  lost  for- 
ever. 

"For  instance,"  I  went  on,  watching  him  furtive- 
ly, though  quite  sure  from  his  very  first  look  that 
he  knew  no  more  now  of  the  secret  of  this  little  ball 
than  he  knew  when  he  jotted  down  the  memorandum 
I  had  just  pocketed  before  his  eyes,  "a  little  thing 
— such  a  little  thing  as  this,"  I  repeated,  giving 
the  bauble  another  twist — "may  lead  to  discoveries 
such  as  no  common  search  would  yield  in  years. 
I  do  not  say  that  it  has;  but  such  a  thing  is  pos- 
sible, you  know:  who  better?" 

My  nonchalance  was  too  much  for  him.  He  sur- 
veyed me  with  covert  dislike,  and  dryly  observed : 

"Your  opportunities  have  exceeded  mine,  even 
with  my  own  effects.  That  petty  trinket  which 
you  have  presumed  to  flaunt  in  my  face — and  of 
whose  value  I  am  the  worst  judge  in  the  world 
since  I  have  never  had  it  in  my  hand — descended  to 
me  with  the  rest  of  Mrs.  Jeffrey's  property.  Your 
conduct,  therefore,  strikes  me  in  the  light  of  an 
impertinence,  especially  as  no  one  could  be  sup- 
posed to  have  more  interest  than  myself  in  what 
has  been  for  many  years  recognized  as  a  family 
talisman." 


372  THE   FILIGREE   BALL 

"Ah,"  I  remarked.  "You  own  to  the  memo- 
randum then.  It  was  made  on  the  spot,  but  with- 
out the  benefit  of  the  talisman." 

"I  own  to  nothing,"  he  snapped.  Then,  realiz- 
ing that  denial  in  this  regard  was  fatal,  he  added 
more  genially :  "What  do  you  mean  by  memoran- 
dum? If  you  mean  that  recapitulation  of  old- 
time  mysteries  and  their  accompanying  features 
with  which  I  once  whiled  away  an  idle  hour,  I  own 
to  it,  of  course.  Why  shouldn't  I?  It  is  only  a 
proof  of  my  curiosity  in  regard  to  this  old  mys- 
tery which  every  member  of  my  family  must  feel. 
That  curiosity  has  not  been  appeased.  If  it  would 
not  be  indiscreet  on  your  part,  may  I  now  ask  if 
you  have  found  out  what  that  little  golden  ball  of 
mine  which  you  sport  so  freely  before  my  eyes  is 
to  be  used  in  connection  with?" 

"Read  the  papers,"  I  said;  "read  to-morrow's 
papers,  Mr.  Moore;  or,  better  still,  to-night's. 
Perhaps  they  will  inform  you." 

He  was  as  angry  as  I  had  expected  him  to  be,  but 
as  this  ire  proved  conclusively  that  his  strongest 
emotion  had  been  curiosity  rather  than  fear,  I  felt 
assured  of  my  ground,  and  turned  to  reenter  the 
house.  Mr.  Moore  did  not  accompany  me. 

The  major  was  standing  in  the  hall.  The  others 
had  evidently  retreated  to  the  parlor. 


TANTALIZING  TACTICS  373 

"The  man  opposite  knows  what  he  knows,"  said 
I;  "but  this  does  not  include  the  facts  concerning 
the  picture  in  the  southwest  chamber  or  the  devil- 
ish mechanism." 

"You  are  sure?" 

"As  positive  as  one  of  my  inexperience  can  be. 
But,  Major,  I  am  equally  positive  that  he  knows 
more  than  he  should  of  Mrs.  Jeffrey's  death.  I 
am  even  ready  to  state  that  in  my  belief  he  was 
in  the  house  when  it  occurred." 

"Has  he  acknowledged  this?" 

"Not  at  all." 

"Then  what  are  your  reasons  for  this  belief?" 

"They  are  many." 

"Will  you  state  them?" 

"Gladly,  if  you  will  pardon  the  presumption. 
Some  of  my  conclusions  can  not  be  new  to  you. 
The  truth  is  that  I  have  possibly  seen  more  of  this 
old  man  than  my  duty  warranted,  and  I  feel  quite 
ready  to  declare  that  he  knows  more  of  what  has 
taken  place  in  this  house  than  he  is  ready  to  avow. 
I  am  sure  that  he  has  often  visited  it  in  secret  and 
knows  about  a  certain  broken  window  as  well  as  we 
do.  I  am  also  sure  that  he  was  here  on  the  night 
of  Mrs.  Jeffrey's  suicide.  He  was  too  little  sur- 
prised when  I  informed  him  of  what  had  hap- 
pened not  to  have  had  some  secret  inkling  of  it  be- 
forehand, even  if  we  had  not  the  testimony  of  tjip 


374  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

lighted  candle  and  the  book  he  so  hurriedly  re- 
placed. Besides,  he  is  not  the  man  to  drag  him- 
self out  at  night  for  so  simple  a  cause  as  the  one 
with  which  he  endeavored  to  impose  upon  us.  He 
knew  what  we  should  find  in  this  house." 

"Very  good.  If  Mr.  Jeffrey's  present  explana- 
tions are  true,  these  deductions  of  yours  are  prob- 
ably correct.  But  Mr.  Moore's  denial  has  been 
positive.  I  fear  that  it  will  turn  out  a  mere  ques- 
tion of  veracity." 

"Not  necessarily,"  I  returned.  "I  think  I  see 
a  way  of  forcing  this  man  to  acknowledge  that  he 
Was  in  or  about  this  house  on  that  fatal  night." 

"You  do?" 

"Yes,  sir;  I  do  not  want  to  boast,  and  I  should 
be  glad  if  you  did  not  oblige  me  to  confide  to  you 
the  means  by  which  I  hope  to  bring  this  out.  Only 
give  me  leave  to  insert  an  advertisement  in  both 
evening  and  morning  papers  and  in  two  days  I 
will  report  failure  or  success." 

The  major  eyed  me  with  an  interest  that  made 
my  heart  thrill.  Then  he  quickly  said:  "You 
have  earned  the  privilege;  I  will  give  you  two 
days." 

At  this  moment  Durbin  reappeared.  As  I  heard 
his  knock  and  turned  to  open  the  door  for  him,  I 
cast  the  major  an  entreating  if  not  eloquent  look. 


TANTALIZING  TACTICS  375 

He  smiled  and  waved  his  hand  with  friendly  assur- 
ance. The  state  of  feeling  between  Durbin  and 
myself  was  evidently  well  known  to  him. 

My  enemy  entered  with  a  jaunty  air,  which 
changed  ever  so  slightly  when  he  saw  me  in  close 
conference  with  the  superintendent. 

He  had  the  book  in  his  pocket.  Taking  it  out, 
he  handed  it  to  the  major,  with  this  remark: 

"You  won't  find  anything  there ;  the  gent's  been 
fooling  you." 

The  major  opened  the  book,  shook  it,  looked 
under  the  cover,  found  nothing,  and  crossed  hastily 
to  the  drawing-room.  We  as  hastily  followed  him. 
The  district  attorney  was  talking  with  Miss  Tuttle ; 
Mr.  Jeffrey  was  nervously  pacing  the  floor.  The 
latter  stopped  as  we  all  entered  and  his  eyes  flashed 
to  the  book. 

"Let  me  take  it,"  said  he. 

"It  is  absolutely  empty,"  remarked  the  major. 
"The  letter  has  been  abstracted,  probably  without 
your  knowledge." 

"I  do  not  think  so,"  was  Mr.  Jeffrey's  unex- 
pected retort.  "Do  you  suppose  that  I  would  in- 
trust a  secret,  for  the  preservation  of  which  I  was 
ready  to  risk  life  and  honor,  to  the  open  pages  of 
a  book?  When  I  found  myself  threatened  with 
all  sorts  of  visits  from  the  police  and  realized  that 


376  THE    FILIGREE   BALL 

at  any  moment  my  effects  might  be  ransacked,  I 
sought  a  hiding  place  for  this  letter,  which  no  man 
without  superhuman  insight  could  discover.  Look !" 

And,  pulling  off  the  outside  wrapper,  he  in- 
serted the  point  of  his  penknife  under  the  edge  of 
the  paper  lining  the  inside  cover  and  ripped  it  off 
with  a  jerk. 

"I  pasted  this  here  myself,"  he  cried,  and  showed 
us  where  between  this  paper  and  the  boards,  in  a 
place  thinned  out  to  hold  it,  there  lay  a  number  of 
folded  sheets,  which,  with  a  deep  sigh,  he  handed 
over  to  the  major's  inspection.  As  lie  did  so  he 
remarked : 

"I  had  rather  have  died  any  natural  death  than 
have  had  my  miserable  wife's  secret  known.  But 
since  the  crime  has  come  to  light,  this  story  of  her 
sin  and  her  repentance  may  serve  in  some  slight 
degree  to  mitigate  public  opinion.  She  was  sorely 
tempted  and  she  succumbed;  the  crime  of  her  an- 
cestors was  in  her  blood." 

He  again  walked  off.  The  major  unfolded  the 
sheets. 


XXV 

"WHO  WILL  TELL,  THE  MAN  INSIDE  THERE?" 

Later  I  saw  this  letter.  It  was  like  no  other 
that  has  ever  come  under  my  eye.  Written  at  in- 
tervals, as  her  hand  had  power  or  her  misery  found 
words,  it  bore  on  its  face  all  the  evidences  of  that 
restless,  suffering  spirit  which  for  thirty-six  hours 
drove  her  in  frenzy  about  her  room,  and  caused 
Loretta  to  say,  in  her  effort  to  describe  her  mis- 
tress' face  as  it  appeared  to  her  at  the  end  of  this 
awful  time:  "It  was  as  if  a  blight  had  passed 
over  it.  Once  gay  and  animated  beyond  the  power 
of  any  one  to  describe,  it  had  become  a  ghost's 
face,  with  the  glare  of  some  awful  resolve  upon  it." 
I  give  this  letter  just  as  it  was  written — dis- 
jointed paragraphs,  broken  sentences,  unfinished 
words  and  all.  The  breaks  show  where  she  laid 
down  her  pen,  possibly  for  that  wild  pacing  of  the 
floor  which  left  such  unmistakable  signs  behind  it. 

It  opens  abruptly : 

"I  killed  him.     I  am  all  that  I  said  I  was,  and 
you  can  never  again  give  me  a  thought  save  in  th« 
377 


378  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

way  of  cursing  and  to  bewail  the  day  I  came  into 
your  life.  But  you  can  not  hate  me  more  than  I 
hate  myself,  my  wicked  self,  who,  seeing  an  ob- 
stacle in  the  way  to  happiness,  stamped  it  out  of 
existence,  and  so  forfeited  all  right  to  happiness 
forever. 

"It  was  so  easy !  Had  it  been  a  hard  thing  to 
do;  had  it  been  necessary  to  lay  hand  on  knife  or 
lift  a  pistol,  I  might  have  realized  the  act  and 
paused.  But  just  a  little  spring  which  a  child's 
hand  could  manage — Who,  feeling  for  it,  could 
help  pressing  it,  if  only  to  see — 

"I  was  always  a  reckless  girl,  mad  for  pleasure 
and  without  any  thought  of  consequences.  When 
school  bored  me,  I  took  all  my  books  out  of  my 
desk,  called  upon  my  mates  to  do  the  same,  and, 
stacking  them  up  into  a  sort  of  rostrum  in  a  field 
where  we  played,  first  delivered  an  oration  from 
them  in  which  reverence  for  my  teachers  had  small 
part,  then  tore  them  into  pieces  and  burned  them 
in  full  sight  of  my  admiring  school-fellows.  I 
was  dismissed,  but  not  with  disgrace.  Teachers 
and  scholars  bewailed  my  departure,  not  because 
they  liked  me,  or  because  of  any  good  they  had 
found  in  me,  but  because  my  money  had  thrown 
luster  on  them  and  on  the  whole  establishment, 


"WHO  WILL  TELL  THE  MAN?"     379 

This  was  when  I  was  twelve,  and  it  was  on  account 
of  this  reckless  escapade  that  I  was  sent  west  and 
kept  so  long  from  home  and  all  my  flatterers. 
My  guardian  meant  well  by  this,  but  in  saving 
me  from  one  pitfall  he  plunged  me  into  another. 
I  grew  up  without  Cora  and  also  without  any 
idea  of  the  requirements  of  my  position  or  what 
I  might  anticipate  from  the  world  when  the  time 
came  for  me  to  enter  it.  I  knew  that  I  had 
money;  so  did  those  about  me;  but  I  had  lit- 
tle or  no  idea  of  the  amount,  nor  what  that  money 
would  do  for  me  when  I  returned  to  Washing- 
ton. So,  in  an  evil  day,  and  when  I  was  just 
eighteen,  I  fell  in  love,  or  thought  I  did,  with  a 
man — (Oh,  Francis,  imagine  it,  now  that  I  have 
seen  you!) — of  sufficient  attraction  to  satisfy  one 
whose  prospects  were  limited  to  a  contracted  ex- 
istence in  some  small  town,  but  no  more  fitted  to 
content  me  after  seeing  Washington  life  than  if  he 
had  been  a  common  farm  hand  or  the  most  or- 
dinary of  clerks  in  a  country  store.  But  I  was 
young,  ignorant  and  self-willed,  and  thought  be- 
cause my  cheek  burned  under  his  look  that  he  was 
the  man  of  men,  and  suited  to  be  my  husband. 
That  is,  if  I  thought  at  all,  which  is  not  likely ;  for 
I  was  in  a  feverish  whirl,  and  just  followed  the  im- 
pulse of  the  moment,  which  was  to  be  with  him 
whenever  I  could  without  attracting  the  teacher's 


380  THE    FILIGREE    BALL 

attention.  And  this,  alas !  was  only  too  often,  for 
he  was  the  brother  of  one  of  our  storekeepers,  a 
visitor  in  Owosso,  and  often  in  the  store  where  we 
girls  went.  Why  the  teachers  did  not  notice  how 
often  we  needed  things  there,  I  do  not  know.  But 
they  did  not,  and  matters  went  on  and — 

"I  can  not  write  of  those  days,  and  you  do  not 
want  to  hear  about  them.  They  seem  impossible  to 
me  now,  and  almost  as  if  it  had  all  happened  to 
some  one  else,  so  completely  have  I  forgotten  the 
man  except  as  the  source  and  cause  of  an  immeas- 
urable horror.  Yet  he  was  not  bad  himself;  only 
ordinary  and  humdrum.  Indeed,  I  believe  he  was 
very  good  in  ways,  or  so  his  brother  once  assured 
me.  We  would  not  have  been  married  in  the 
way  we  were  if  he  had  not  wanted  to  go  to  the 
Klondike  for  the  purpose  of  making  money  and 
making  it  quickly,  so  that  his  means  might  match 
mine. 

"I  do  not  know  which  of  us  two  was  most  to 
blame  for  that  marriage.  He  urged  it  because  he 
was  going  so  far  away  and  wanted  to  be  sure  of 
me.  I  accepted  it  because  it  seemed  to  be  roman- 
tic and  because  it  pleased  me  to  have  my  own  way 
in  spite  of  my  hard  old  guardian  and  the  teachers, 
who  were  always  prying  about,  and  the  girls,  who 
went  silly  over  him — for  he  was  really  handsome 


"WHO  WILL  TELL  THE  MAN?"     381 

in  his  way — and  who  thought,  (at  least  many  of 
them  did,)  that  he  cared  for  them  when  he  cared 
only  for  me. 

"I  have  hated  black  eyes  for  a  year.  He  had 
black  eyes. 

"I  forgot  Cora,  or,  rather,  I  did  not  let  any 
remembrance  of  her  hinder  me.  She  was  a  very 
shadowy  person  to  me  in  those  days.  I  had  not 
seen  her  since  we  were  both  children,  and  as  for  her 
letters — they  were  almost  a  bore  to  me;  she  lived 
such  a  different  life  from  mine  and  wrote  of  so 
many  things  I  had  no  interest  in.  On  my  knees  I 
ask  her  pardon  now.  I  never  understood  her.  I 
never  understood  myself.  I  was  light  as  thistle- 
down and  blown  by  every  breeze.  There  came  a 
gust  one  day  which  blew  me  into  the  mouth  of  hell. 
I  am  hovering  there  yet  and  am  sinking,  Francis, 
sinking — Save  me!  I  love  you — I — I — 

"It  was  all  planned  by  him — I  have  no  head  for 
such  things.  Sadie  helped  him — Sadie  was  my 
friend — but  Sadie  had  not  much  to  say  about  it, 
for  he  seemed  to  know  just  how  to  arrange  it  all 
so  that  no  one  at  the  seminary  should  know  or  even 
suspect  what  had  occurred  till  we  got  ready  to  tell 
them.  He  did  not  even  take  his  brother  into  his 


382  THE  FILIGREE  BALL 

confidence,  for  Wallace  kept  store  and  gossiped 
very  much  with  his  customers.  Besides,  he  was 
very  busy  just  then  selling  out,  for  he  was  going 
to  the  Klondike  with  William,  and  he  had  too  much 
on  his  mind  to  be  bothered,  or  so  William  said.  All 
this  I  must  tell  you  or  you  will  never  understand 
the  temptation  which  assailed  me  when,  having  re- 
turned to  Washington,  I  awoke  to  my  own  posi- 
tion and  the  kind  of  men  whom  I  could  now  hope 
to  meet.  I  was  the  wife — oh,  the  folly  of  it — but 
this  was  known  to  so  few,  and  those  were  so  far  re- 
moved, and  one  even — my  friend  Sadie — being 
dead — Why  not  ignore  the  miserable  secret  cere- 
mony and  cheat  myself  into  believing  myself  free, 
and  enjoy  this  world  of  pleasure  and  fashion  as 
Cora  was  enjoying  it  and — trust.  Trust  what? 
Why  the  Klondike!  That  swallower-up  of  men. 
Why  shouldn't  it  swallow  one  more — Oh,  I  know 
that  it  sounds  hateful.  But  I  was  desperate;  I 
had  seen  you. 

"I  had  one  letter  from  him  after  he  reached 
Alaska,  but  that  was  before  I  left  Owosso.  I  never 
got  another.  And  I  never  wrote  to  him.  He  told 
me  not  to  do  so  until  he  could  send  me  word  how 
and  where  to  write ;  but  when  these  directions  came 
my  heart  had  changed  and  my  only  wish  was  to 
forget  his  existence.  And  I  did  forget  it — al- 


"WHO  WILL  TELL  THE  MAN?"     383 

most.  I  rode  and  danced  with  you  and  went  hither 
and  yon,  lavishing  money  and  time  and  heart  on 
the  frivolities  which  came  in  my  way,  calling  myself 
Veronica  and  striving  by  these  means  to  crush 
out  every  remembrance  of  the  days  when  I  was 
known  as  Antoinette  and  Antoinette  only.  For 
the  Klondike  was  far  and  its  weather  bitter,  and 
men  were  dying  there  every  day,  and  no  letters 
came  (I  used  to  thank  God  for  this),  and  I  need  not 
think — not  yet — whither  I  was  tending.  One  thing 
only  made  me  recall  my  real  position.  That  was 
when  your  eyes  turned  on  mine — your  true  eyes, 
so  bright  with  confidence  and  pride.  I  wanted  to 
meet  them  full,  and  when  I  could  not,  I  suddenly 
knew  why,  and  suffered. 

"Do  you  remember  the  night  when  we  stood  to- 
gether on  the  balcony  at  the  Ocean  View  House 
and  you  laid  your  hand  on  my  arm  and  wondered 
why  I  persisted  in  looking  at  the  moon  instead  of 
into  your  expectant  face?  It  was  because  the  mu- 
sic then  being  played  within  recalled  another  night 
and  the  pressure  of  another  hand  on  my  arm — a 
hand  whose  touch  I  hoped  never  to  feel  again,  but 
which  at  that  moment  was  so  much  more  palpable 
than  yours  that  I  came  near  screaming  aloud  and 
telling  you  in  one  rush  of  maddened  emotion  my 
whole  abominable  secret. 


384  THE  FILIGREE  BALL 

"I  did  not  accept  your  attentions  nor  agree  t» 
marry  you,  without  a  struggle.  You  know  that. 
You  can  tell,  as  no  one  else  can,  how  I  held  back 
and  asked  for  time  and  still  for  time,  thus  grieving 
you  and  tearing  my  own  breast  till  a  day  came — 
you  remember  the  day  when  you  found  me  laugh- 
ing like  a  mad  woman  in  a  circle  of  astonished 
friends?  You  drew  me  aside  and  said  words  which 
I  hardly  waited  for  you  to  finish,  for  at  last  I  was 
free  to  love  you,  free  to  love  and  free  to  say  so. 
The  morning  paper  had  brought  news.  A  tele- 
graphic despatch  from  Seattle  told  how  a  man  had 
struggled  into  Nome,  frozen,  bleeding  and  without 
accoutrements  or  companion.  It  was  with  diffi- 
culty he  had  kept  his  feet  and  turned  in  at  the  first 
tent  he  came  to.  Indeed,  he  had  only  time  to 
speak  his  name  before  he  fell  dead.  This  name 
was  what  made  this  despatch  important  to  me.  It 
was  William  Pfeiffer.  For  me  there  was  but  one 
William  Pfeiffer  in  the  Klondike — my  husband — 
and  he  was  dead!  That  was  why  you  found  me 
laughing.  But  not  in  mirth.  I  am  not  so  bad  as 
that;  but  because  I  could  breathe  again  without 
feeling  a  clutch  about  my  throat.  I  did  not  know 
till  then  how  nearly  I  had  been  stifled. 

"We  were  not  long  in  marrying  after  that.  I 
was  terrified  at  delay,  not  because  I  feared  any 


"WHO  WILL  TELL  THE  MAN?"     385 

contradiction  of  the  report  which  had  given  this 
glorious  release,  but  because  I  dreaded  lest  some 
hint  of  my  early  folly  should  reach  you  and  dim 
the  pride  with  which  you  regarded  me.  I  wanted 
to  feel  myself  yours  so  closely  and  so  dearly  that 
you  would  not  mind  if  any  one  told  you  that  I  had 
once  cared,  or  thought  I  had  cared,  for  another. 
The  week  of  our  marriage  came;  I  was  mad  with 
gaiety  and  ecstatic  with  hope.  Nothing  had 
occurred  to  mar  my  prospects.  No  letter  from 
Denver — no  memento  from  the  Klondike,  no 
word  even  from  Wallace,  who  had  gone  north  with 
his  brother.  Soon  I  should  be  called  wife  again, 
but  by  lips  I  loved,  and  to  whose  language  my 
heart  thrilled.  The  past,  always  vague,  would 
soon  be  no  more  than  a  forgotten  dream — an  epi- 
sode quite  closed.  I  could  afford  from  this  mo- 
ment on  to  view  life  like  other  girls  and  rejoice  in 
my  youth  and  the  love  which  every  day  was  be- 
coming more  and  more  to  me. 

"But  God  had  His  eye  upon  me,  and  in  the  midst 
of  my  happiness  and  the  hurry  of  our  final  prepa- 
rations His  bolt  fell.  It  struck  me  while  I  was  at 
the — don't  laugh;  rather  shudder — at  the  dress- 
maker's shop  in  Fourteenth  Street.  I  was  leaning 
over  a  table,  chattering  like  a  magpie  over  the  way 
I  wanted  a  gown  trimmed,  when  my  eye  fell  on  a 
scrap  of  newspaper  in  which  something  had  come 


386  THE  FILIGREE  BALL 

rolled  to  madame.  It  was  torn  at  the  edge,  but 
on  the  bit  lying  under  my  eyes  I  saw  my  husband's 
name,  William  Pfeiffer,  and  thr.fc  the  paper 
was  a  Denver  one.  There  was  but  one  Wil- 
liam Pfeiffer  in  Denver — and  he  was  my  husband. 
And  I  read — feeling  nothing.  Then  I  read 
again,  and  the  world,  my  world,  went  from  under 
my  feet;  for  the  man  who  had  fallen  dead  in  the 
camp  at  Nome  was  Wallace,  William's  brother,  and 
not  William  himself.  William  had  been  left  be- 
hind on  the  road  by  his  more  energetic  brother,  who 
had  pushed  on  for  succor  through  the  worst  storm 
and  under  the  worst  conditions  possible  even  in  that 
God-forsaken  region.  With  the  lost  one  in  mind, 
the  one  word  that  Wallace  uttered  in  sight  of  res- 
cue, was  William.  A  hope  was  expressed  of  finding 
the  latter  alive  and  a  party  had  started  out — Did 
I  read  more?  I  do  not  think  so.  Perhaps  there 
was  no  more  to  read;  here  was  where  the  pa- 
per was  torn  across.  But  it  was  no  matter.  I 
had  seen  enough.  It  was  Wallace  who  had  fallen 
dead,  and  while  William  might  have  perished  also, 
and  doubtless  had,  I  had  no  certainty  of  it.  And 
my  wedding  day  was  set  for  Thursday. 

"Why  didn't  I  tell  Cora;  why  didn't  I  tell  you? 
Pride  held  my  tongue;  besides,  I  had  had  time  to 
think  before  I  saw  either  of  you,  and  to  reason  a 


"WHO  WILL  TELL  THE  MAN?"     387 

bit  and  to  feel  sure  that  if  Wallace  had  been  spent 
enough  to  fall  dead  on  reaching  the  camp,  Wil- 
liam could  never  have  survived  on  the  open  road. 
For  Wallace  was  the  stronger  of  the  two  and 
the  most  hardy  every  way.  Free  I  certainly  was. 
Some  later  paper  would  assure  me  of  this.  I  would 
hunt  them  up  and  see — but  I  never  did.  I  do  not 
think  I  dared.  I  was  afraid  I  should  see  some  ac- 
count of  his  rescue.  I  was  afraid  of  being  made 
certain  of  what  was  now  but  a  possibility,  and  so 
I  did  nothing.  But  for  three  nights  I  did  not 
sleep. 

"The  caprice  which  had  led  me  to  choose  the  old 
Moore  house  to  be  married  in  led  me  to  plan  dress- 
ing there  on  my  wedding  morning.  It  was  early 
when  we  started,  Cora  and  I,  for  Waverley  Avenue, 
but  not  too  early  for  the  approaches  to  that  dread- 
ful house  to  be  crowded  with  people,  eager  to  see 
the  daring  bride.  Why  I  should  have  shrunk  so 
from  that  crowd  I  can  not  say.  I  trembled  at 
sight  of  their  faces  and  at  the  sound  of  their  voices, 
and  if  by  chance  a  head  was  thrust  forward  farther 
than  the  rest  I  cowered  back  instinctively  and 
nearly  screamed.  Did  I  dread  to  recognize  a  too 
familiar  face?  The  paper  I  had  seen  bore  a  date 
six  months  back.  A  man  could  arrive  here  from 
Alaska  in  that  time.  Or  was  my  conscience  aroused 


388  THE  FILIGREE  BALL 

at  last  and  clamoring  to  be  heard  when  it  was  too 
late?  On  the  corner  of  N  Street  the  carriage  sud- 
denly stopped.  A  man  had  crossed  in  front  of  it. 
I  caught  one  glimpse  of  this  man  and  instantly  the 
terrors  of  a  lifetime  were  concentrated  into  one  in- 
stant of  agonizing  fear.  It  was  William  Pfeiffer. 
I  knew  the  look ;  I  knew  the  gait.  He  was  gone  in 
a  moment  and  the  carriage  rolled  on.  But  I  knew 
my  doom  as  well  that  minute  as  I  did  an  hour  later. 
My  husband  was  alive  and  he  was  here.  He  had 
escaped  the  perils  of  the  Klondike  and  wandered 
east  to  reclaim  his  recreant  wife.  There  had  been 
time  for  him  to  do  this  since  the  rescue  party  left 
home  in  search  of  him;  time  for  him  to  recover, 
time  for  him  to  reach  home,  time  for  him  to  reach 
the  east.  He  had  heard  of  my  wedding;  it  was  in 
all  the  papers,  and  I  should  find  him  at  the  house 
when  I  got  there,  and  you  would  know  and  Cora 
would  know,  and  the  wedding  would  stop  and  my 
name  be  made  a  by-word  the  world  over.  Instead 
of  the  joy  awaiting  me  a  moment  since,  I  should 
have  to  go  away  with  him  into  some  wilderness  or 
distant  place  of  exile  where  my  maiden  name  would 
never  be  heard,  and  all  the  memories  of  this  year 
of  stolen  delights  be  effaced.  Oh,  it  was  horrible! 
And  all  in  a  minute!  And  Cora  sat  there,  pale, 
calm  and  beautiful  as  an  angel,  beaming  on  me 
with  tender  eyes  whose  expression  I  have  never  un- 


"WHO  WILL  TELL  THE  MAN?"     389 

derstood!  Hell  in  my  heart, — and  she,  in  happy 
ignorance  of  this,  brooding  over  my  joy  and  smil- 
ing to  herself  while  the  soft  tears  rose ! 

"You  were  waiting  at  the  curb  when  I  arrived, 
and  I  remember  how  my  heart  stood  still  when  you 
laid  your  hand  on  the  carriage  door  and  confronted 
me  with  that  light  on  your  face  I  had  never  seen  dis- 
turbed since  we  first  pledged  ourselves  to  marry. 
Would  he  see  it,  too,  and  come  forward  from  the 
secret  place  where  he  held  himself  hidden  ?  Was  I 
destined  to  behold  a  struggle  in  the  streets,  an  un- 
seemly contest  of  words  in  sight  of  the  door  I  had 
expected  to  enter  so  joyously?  In  terror  of  such 
an  event,  I  seized  the  hand  which  seemed  my  one 
refuge  in  this  hour  of  mortal  trouble,  and  hastened 
into  the  house  which,  for  all  its  doleful  history, 
had  never  received  within  its  doors  a  heart  more 
burdened  or  rebellious.  As  this  thought  rushed  over 
me,  I  came  near  crying  out,  'The  house  of  doom! 
The  house  of  doom !'  I  had  thought  to  brave  its 
terrors  and  its  crimes  and  it  has  avenged  itself. 
But  instead  of  that,  I  pressed  your  hand  with  mine 
and  smiled.  O  God !  if  you  could  have  seen  what 
lay  beneath  that  smile !  For,  with  my  entrance  be- 
neath those  fatal  doors  a  thought  had  come.  I 
remembered  my  heritage.  I  remembered  how  I 
had  been  told  by  my  father  when  I  was  a  very  little 


890  THE  FILIGREE  BALL 

girl, — I  presume  when  he  first  felt  the  hand  of 
death  upon  him, — that  if  ever  I  was  in  great 
trouble, — very  great  trouble,  he  had  said,  where  no 
deliverance  seemed  possible — I  was  to  open  a  little 
golden  ball  which  he  showed  me  and  take  out  what 
I  should  find  inside  and  hold  it  close  up  before  a 
picture  which  had  hung  from  time  immemorial  in 
the  southwest  corner  of  this  old  house.  He  could 
not  tell  me  what  I  should  encounter  there — this  I 
remember  his  saying — but  something  that  would 
assist  me,  something  which  had  passed  with  good 
effect  from  father  down  to  child  for  many  genera- 
tions. Only,  if  I  would  be  blessed  in  my  under- 
takings, I  must  not  open  the  golden  ball  nor  en- 
deavor to  find  out  its  mystery  unless  my  trouble 
threatened  death  or  some  great  disaster.  Such  a 
trouble  had  indeed  come  to  me,  and — startling 
coincidence — I  was  at  this  moment  in  the  very 
house  where  this  picture  hung,  and — more  startling 
fact  yet — the  golden  ball  needed  to  interpret  its 
meaning  was  round  my  neck — for  with  such  jeal- 
ousy was  this  family  trinket  always  guarded  by  its 
owner.  Why  then  not  test  their  combined  effect? 
I  certainly  needed  help  from  some  quarter.  Never 
would  William  allow  me  to  be  married  to  another 
while  he  lived.  He  would  yet  appear  and  I  should 
need  this  great  assistance  (great  enough  to  be 
transmitted  from  father  to  son)  as  none  of  the 


"WHO  WILL  TELL  THE  MAN?"     391 

Moores  had  needed  it  yet;  though  what  it  was  I 
did  not  know  and  did  not  even  try  to  guess. 

"Yet  when  I  got  to  the  room  I  did  not  drag  out 
the  filigree  ball  at  once  nor  even  take  more  than  one 
fearful  side-long  look  at  the  picture.  In  drawing 
off  my  glove  I  had  seen  his  ring — the  ring  you  had 
once  asked  about.  It  was  such  a  cheap  affair ;  the 
only  one  he  could  get  in  that  obscure  little  town 
where  we  were  married.  I  lied  when  you  asked  me 
if  it  was  a  family  jewel;  lied  but  did  not  take  it 
off,  perhaps  because  it  clung  so  tightly,  as  if  in 
remembrance  of  the  vows  it  symbolized.  But  now 
the  very  sight  of  it  gave  me  a  fright.  With  his 
ring  on  my  finger  I  could  not  defy  him  and  swear 
his  claim  to  be  false — the  dream  of  a  man  mad- 
dened by  his  experiences  in  the  Klondike.  It  must 
come  off.  Then,  perhaps,  I  should  feel  myself  a 
free  woman.  But  it  would  not  come  off.  I  strug- 
gled with  it  and  tugged  in  vain ;  then  I  bethought 
me  of  using  a  nail  file  to  sever  it.  This  I  did, 
grinding  and  grinding  at  it  till  the  ring  finally 
broke,  and  I  could  wrench  it  off  and  cast  it  away 
out  of  sight  and,  as  I  hoped,  out  of  my  memory 
also.  I  breathed  easier  when  rid  of  this  token,  yet 
choked  with  terror  whenever  a  step  approached  the 
door.  I  was  clad  in  my  bridal  dress,  but  not  in 
my  bridal  veil  or  ornaments,  and  naturally  Cora, 


392  THE  FILIGREE  BALL 

and  then  my  maid,  came  to  assist  me.  But  I  would 
not  let  them  in.  I  was  set  upon  testing  the  secret 
of  the  filigree  ball  and  so  preparing  myself  for 
what  my  conscience  told  me  lay  between  me  and 
the  ceremony  arranged  for  high  noon. 

"I  did  not  guess  that  the  studying  out  of  that 
picture  would  take  so  long.  The  contents  of  the 
ball  turned  out  to  be  a  small  magnifying-glass,  and 
the  picture  a  maze  of  written  words.  I  did  not  de- 
cipher it  all;  I  did  not  decipher  the  half.  I  did 
not  need  to.  A  spirit  of  divination  was  given  me 
in  that  awful  hour  which  enabled  me  to  grasp  its 
full  meaning  from  the  few  sentences  I  did  pick  out. 
And  that  meaning !  It  was  horrible,  inconceivable. 
Murder  was  taught;  but  murder  from  a  distance, 
and  by  an  act  too  simple  to  awake  revulsion.  Were 
the  wraiths  of  my  two  ancestors  who  had  played 
with  the  spring  hidden  in  the  depths  of  this  old 
closet,  drawn  up  in  mockery  beside  me  during  the 
hour  when  I  stood  spellbound  in  the  middle  of 
the  floor,  thinking  of  what  I  had  just  read,  and 
listening — listening  for  something  less  loud  than 
the  sound  of  carriages  now  beginning  to  roll  up 
in  front  or  the  stray  notes  of  the  band  tuning 
up  below? — less  loud,  but  meaning  what?  A 
step  into  the  empty  closet  yawning  so  near — an 
effort  with  a  drawer — a — a — .  Do  not  ask  me 


"WHO  WILL  TELL  THE  MAN?"     393 

to  recall  it.  I  did  not  shudder  when  the  mo- 
ment came  and  I  stood  there.  Then  I  was  cold 
as  marble.  But  I  shudder  now  in  thinking  of 
it  till  soul  and  body  seem  separating,  and  the  hor- 
ror which  envelopes  me  gives  me  such  a  foretaste  of 
hell  that  I  wonder  I  can  contemplate  the  deed 
which,  if  it  releases  me  from  this  earthly  anguish, 
will  only  plunge  me  into  a  possibly  worse  here- 
after. Yet  I  shall  surely  take  my  life  before  you 
see  me  again,  and  in  that  old  house.  If  it  is 
despair  I  feel,  then  despair  will  take  me  there.  If 
it  is  repentance,  then  repentance  will  suffice  to  drive 
me  to  the  one  expiation  possible  to  me — to  perish 
where  I  caused  an  innocent  man  to  perish,  and  so 
relieve  you  of  a  wife  who  was  never  worthy  of 
you  and  whom  it  would  be  your  duty  to  denounce 
if  she  let  another  sun  rise  upon  her  guilt. 

"I  did  not  stand  there  long  between  the  wraiths 
of  my  murderous  ancestors.  A  message  was  shout- 
ed through  the  door — the  message  for  which  my 
ears  had  been  strained  in  dreadful  anticipation  for 
the  last  two  hours.  A  man  named  Pfeiffer  wanted 
to  see  me  before  I  went  down  to  be  married.  A 
man  named  Pfeiffer! 

"I  looked  closely  at  the  boy  who  delivered  this 
message.  He  showed  no  excitement,  nor  any  feel- 
ing greater  than  impatience  at  being  kept  waiting 
a  minute  or  so  at  the  door.  Then  I  glanced  be- 


394.  THE  FILIGREE  BALL 

yond  him,  at  the  people  chatting  in  the  hall.  No 
alarm  there;  nothing  but  a  very  natural  surprise 
that  the  bride  should  keep  so  big  a  crowd  waiting. 
I  felt  that  this  fixed  the  event.  He  who  had  sent 
me  this  quiet  message  was  true  to  himself  and  to 
our  old  compact.  He  had  not  published  below 
what  would  have  set  the  house  in  an  uproar  in  a 
moment.  He  had  left  his  secret  to  be  breathed 
into  my  ear  alone.  I  could  recall  the  moment  he 
passed  me  his  word,  and  his  firm  look  as  he  said, 
with  his  hand  lifted  to  Heaven — 'You  have  been 
good  to  me  and  given  me  your  precious  self  while 
I  was  poor  and  a  nobody.  In  return,  I  swear  to 
keep  our  marriage  a  secret  till  great  success  shows 
me  to  be  worthy  of  you  or  till  you  with  your  own 
lips  express  forgiveness  of  my  failure  and  grant  me 
leave  to  speak.  Nothing  but  death  or  your  per- 
mission shall  ever  unseal  my  lips.'  When  I  heard 
that  he  was  dead  I  feared  lest  he  might  have  spoken, 
but  now  that  I  had  seen  him  alive,  I  knew  that  in 
no  other  breast,  save  his,  my  own  and  that  of  the 
unknown  minister  in  an  almost  unknown  town, 
dwelt  any  knowledge  of  the  fact  which  stood  be- 
tween me  and  the  marriage  which  all  these  people 
had  come  here  to  see.  My  confidence  in  his  recti- 
tude determined  me.  Without  conscious  emotion, 
without  fear  even, — the  ending  of  suspense  had 


"WHO  WILL  TELL  THE  MAN?"     395 

ended  all  that, — I  told  the  boy  to  seat  the  gentle- 
man in  the  library.     Then — 

"I  am  haunted  now,  I  am  haunted  always,  by  one 
vision,  horrible  but  persistent.  It  will  not  leave 
me;  it  rises  between  us  now;  it  has  stood  between 
us  ever  since  I  left  that  house  with  the  seal  of  your 
affection  on  my  lips.  Last  night  it  terrified  me 
into  unconscious  speech.  I  dreamed  that  I  saw 
again,  and  plainly,  what  I  caught  but  a  shadowy 
glimpse  of  in  that  murderous  hour:  a  man's  form 
seated  at  the  end  of  the  old  settle,  with  his  head  lean- 
ing back,  in  silent  contemplation.  His  face  was 
turned  the  other  way — I  thanked  God  for  that — no, 
I  did  not  thank  God;  I  never  thought  of  God  in 
that  moment  of  my  blind  feeling  about  for  a  chink 
and  a  spring  in  the  wall.  I  thought  only  of  your 
impatience,  and  the  people  waiting,  and  the  pleas- 
ure of  days  to  come  when,  free  from  this  intoler- 
able bond,  I  could  keep  my  place  at  your  side 
and  bear  your  name  unreproyed  and  taste  to  the 
full  the  awe  and  delight  of  a  passion  such  as  few 
women  ever  feel,  because  few  women  were  ever 
loved  by  a  man  like  you.  Had  my  thoughts  been 
elsewhere,  my  fingers  might  have  forgotten  to  fum- 
ble along  that  wall,  and  I  had  been  simply  wretched 
to-day, — and  innocent.  Innocent!  O,  where  in 


396  THE  FILIGREE  BALL 

God's  universe  can  I  be  made  innocent  again  and 
fit  to  look  in  jour  face  and  to  love — heart-breaking 
thought — even  to  love  you  again? 

"To  turn  and  turn  a  miserable  crank  after  those 
moments  of  frenzied  action  and  silence — that  was 
the  hard  part — that  was  what  tried  my  nerve  and 
first  robbed  me  of  calmness.  But  I  dared  not  leave 
that  fearful  thing  dangling  there ;  I  had  to  wind. 
The  machinery  squeaked,  and  its  noise  seemed  to 
fill  the  house,  but  no  one  came  nor  did  the  door  be- 
low open.  Sometimes  I  have  wished  that  it  had. 
I  should  not  then  have  been  lured  on  and  you 
would  not  have  become  involved  in  my  ruin. 

"I  have  heard  many  say  that  I  looked  radiant 
when  I  came  down  to  be  married.  The  radiance 
was  in  their  thoughts.  Or  if  my  face  did  shine, 
and  if  I  moved  as  if  treading  on  air,  it  was  because 
I  had  triumphed  over  all  difficulties  and  could  pass 
down  to  the  altar  without  fear  of  that  interrupt- 
ing voice  crying  out:  'I  forbid!  She  is  mine! 
The  wife  of  William  Pf eiff er  can  not  wed  another !' 
No  such  words  could  be  dreaded  now.  The  lips 
which  might  have  spoken  them  were  dumb.  I  for- 
got that  fleshless  lips  gibber  loudest,  and  that  a 
lifetime,  long  or  short,  lay  before  me,  in  which  to 
hear  them  mumble  and  squeak  their  denunciation 


"WHO  WILL  TELL  THE  MAN?"     397 

and  threats.  Oh,  but  I  have  been  wretched!  At 
ball  and  dinner  and  dance  those  lips  have  been 
ever  at  my  ear,  but  most  when  we  have  sat  alone  to- 
gether ;  most  then ;  Oh,  most  then ! 

"He  is  avenged ;  but  you !  Who  will  avenge  you, 
and  where  will  you  ever  find  happiness  ? 

"To  blot  myself  from  your  memory  I  would  go 
down  deeper  into  the  vale  of  suffering  than  ever  I 
have  gone  yet.  But  no,  no!  do  not  quite  forget 
me.  Remember  me  as  you  saw  me  one  night — the 
night  you  took  the  flower  out  of  my  hair  and  kissed 
it,  saying  that  Washington  held  many  beautiful 
women,  but  that  none  of  them  save  myself  had 
ever  had  the  power  to  move  your  inmost  heart- 
strings. Ah,  low  was  your  voice  and  eloquent  your 
eyes  that  hour,  and  I  forgot, — for  a  moment  I  for- 
got— everything  but  this  pure  love,  and  the  heart- 
beat it  called  up  and  the  hope,  never  to  be  realized 
— that  I  should  live  to  hear  you  repeat  the  same 
sweet  words  in  our  old  age,  in  just  such  a  tone  and 
with  just  such  a  look.  I  was  innocent  at  that  mo- 
ment, innocent  and  good.  I  am  willing  that  you 
should  remember  me  as  I  was  that  night. 

"When  I  think  of  him  lying  cold  and  dead  in 
the  grave  I  myself  dug  for  him,  my  heart  is  like 
stone,  but  when  I  think  of  you — 


S98  THE  FILIGREE  BALL 

"I  am  afraid  to  die ;  but  I  am  more  afraid  of 
failing  in  courage.  I  shall  have  the  pistol  tied  to 
me ;  this  will  make  it  seem  inevitable  to  use  it.  Oh ! 
that  the  next  twenty-four  hours  could  be  blotted 
out  of  time !  Such  horror  can  not  be.  I  was  born 
for  joy  and  gaiety;  yet  no  dismal  depth  of  misery 
and  fear  has  been  spared  me !  But  all  on  account 
of  my  own  act.  I  do  not  accuse  God ;  I  do  not  ac- 
cuse man;  I  only  accuse  myself,  and  my  thought- 
less grasping  after  pleasure. 

"I  want  Cora  to  read  this  as  well  as  you.  She 
must  know  me  dead  as  she  never  knew  me  living. 
But  I  can  not  tell  her  that  I  have  left  a  confession 
behind  me.  She  must  come  upon  it  unexpectedly, 
just  as  I  mean  you  to  do.  Only  thus  can  it  reach 
either  of  you  with  any  power.  If  I  could  but  think 
of  some  excuse  for  sending  her  to  the  book  where 
I  propose  to  hide  it !  that  would  give  her  a  chance 
of  reading  it  before  you  do,  and  this  would  be 
best.  She  may  know  how  to  prepare  or  comfort 
you — I  hope  so.  Cora  is  a  noble  woman,  but  the 
secret  which  kept  my  thoughts  in  such  a  whirl  has 
held  us  apart. 

"You  did  what  I  asked.  You  found  a  place  for 
Raucher's  waiter  in  the  volunteer  corps.  Sur- 
prised as  you  were  at  the  interest  I  expressed  in 


"WHO  WILL  TELL  THE  MAN?"     399 

him,  you  honored  my  first  request  and  said  noth- 
ing. Would  you  have  shown  the  same  anxious 
eagerness  if  you  had  known  why  I  whispered  those 
few  words  to  him  from  the  carriage  door?  Why 
I  could  neither  rest  nor  sleep  till  he  and  the  other 
boy  were  safely  out  of  town  ? 

"I  must  leave  a  line  for  you  to  show  to  people 
if  they  should  wonder  why  I  killed  myself  so  soon 
after  my  seemingly  happy  marriage.  You  will 
find  it  in  the  same  book  with  this  letter.  Some  one 
will  tell  you  to  look  in  the  book — I  can  not  write 
any  more. 

"I  can  not  help  writing.  It  is  all  that  connects 
me  now  with  life  and  with  you.  But  I  have  noth- 
ing more  to  say  except,  forgive — forgive — 

"Do  you  think  that  God  looks  at  his  wretched 
ones  differently  from  what  men  do?  That  He 
will  have  tenderness  for  one  so  sorry — that  He 
will  even  find  place — .  But  my  mother  is  there! 
my  father!  Oh,  that  makes  it  fearful  to  go — to 
meet — But  it  was  my  father  who  led  me  into  this 
— only  he  did  not  know — There !  I  will  think  only 
of  God. 

"Good  by — good  by — good — " 


400  THE  FILIGREE  BALL 

That  was  all.  It  ended,  as  it  began,  without 
name  and  without  date, — the  final  heart-throbs  of 
a  soul,  awakened  to  its  own  act  when  it  was  quite 
too  late.  A  piteous  memorial  which  daunted  each 
one  of  us  as  we  read  it,  and  when  finished,  drew  us 
all  together  in  the  hall  out  of  the  sight  and  hearing 
of  the  two  persons  most  intimately  concerned  in  it. 

Possibly  because  all  had  one  thought — a  thrill- 
ing one,  which  the  major  was  the  first  to  give  utter- 
ance to. 

"The  man  she  killed  was  buried  under  the  name 
of  Wallace.  How's  that,  if  he  was  her  husband, 
William?" 

An  officer  we  had  not  before  noted  was  standing 
near  the  front  door.  He  came  forward  at  this  and 
placed  a  second  telegram  in  the  superintendent's 
hand.  It  was  from  the  same  source  as  the  one  pre- 
viously received  and  appeared  to  settle  this  very 
question. 

"I  have  just  learned  that  the  man  married  was 
not  the  one  who  kept  store  in  Owosso,  but  his 
brother  William,  who  afterward  died  in  Klondike. 
It  is  Wallace  whose  death  you  are  investigating." 

"What  snarl  is  here?"  asked  the  major. 
"I  think  I  understand,"  I  ventured  to  put  in. 
"Her  husband  was  the  one  left  on  the  road  by  the 


"WHO  WILL  TELL  THE  MAN?"     401 

brother  who  staggered  into  camp  for  aid.  He  was 
a  weak  man — the  weaker  of  the  two  she  said — and 
probably  died,  while  Wallace,  after  seemingly 
collapsing,  recovered.  This  last  she  did  not  know, 
having  failed  to  read  the  whole  of  the  newspaper 
slip  which  told  about  it,  and  so  when  she  saw  some 
one  with  the  Pfeiffer  air  and  figure  and  was  told 
later  that  a  Mr.  Pfeiffer  was  waiting  to  see  her,  she 
took  it  for  granted  that  it  was  her  husband,  be- 
lieving positively  that  Wallace  was  dead.  The 
latter,  moreover,  may  have  changed  to  look  more 
like  his  brother  in  the  time  that  had  elapsed." 

"A  possible  explanation  which  adds  greatly  to 
the  tragic  aspects  of  the  situation.  She  was  prob- 
ably a  widow  when  she  touched  the  fatal  spring. 
Who  will  tell  the  man  inside  there?  It  will  be  hit 
crowning  blow." 


XXVI 


I  never  saw  any  good  reason  for  my  changing 
the  opinion  just  expressed.  Indeed,  as  time  went 
on  and  a  further  investigation  was  made  into  the 
life  and  character  of  these  two  brothers,  I  came 
to  think  that  not  only  had  the  unhappy  Veronica 
mistaken  the  person  of  Wallace  Pfeiffer  for  that  of 
her  husband  William,  but  also  the  nature  of  the 
message  he  sent  her  and  the  motives  which  actuated 
it ;  that  the  interview  he  so  peremptorily  demanded 
before  she  descended  to  her  nuptials  would,  had 
she  but  understood  it  properly,  have  yielded  her  an 
immeasurable  satisfaction  instead  of  rousing  in  her 
alarmed  breast  the  criminal  instincts  of  her  race; 
that  it  was  meant  to  do  this;  that  he,  knowing 
William's  secret — a  secret  which  the  latter  naturally 
would  confide  to  him  at  a  moment  so  critical  as 
that  which  witnessed  their  parting  in  the  desolate 
Klondike  pass — had  come,  not  to  reproach  her  with 
her  new  nuptials,  but  to  relieve  her  mind  in  case 
402 


RUDGE  403 

she  cherished  the  least  doubt  of  her  full  right  to 
marry  again,  by  assurances  of  her  husband's  death 
and  of  her  own  complete  freedom.  To  this  he  may 
have  intended  to  add  some  final  messages  of  love  and 
confidence  from  the  man  she  had  been  so  ready  to 
forget ;  but  nothing  worse.  Wallace  Pfeiffer  was 
incapable  of  anything  worse,  and  if  she  had  only 
resigned  herself  to  her  seeming  fate  and  consented 
to  see  this  man — 

But  to  return  to  fact  and  leave  speculation  to  the 
now  doubly  wretched  Jeffrey. 

On  the  evening  of  the  day  which  saw  our  first 
recognition  of  this  crime  as  the  work  of  Veronica 
Moore,  the  following  notice  appeared  in  the  Star 
and  all  the  other  local  journals: 

"Any  person  who  positively  remembers  passing 
through  Waverley  Avenue  between  N  and  M 
Streets  on  the  evening  of  May  the  eleventh  at  or 
near  the  hour  of  a  quarter  past  seven  will  confer 
a  favor  on  the  detective  force  of  the  District  by 
communicating  the  same  to  F.  at  the  police  head- 
quarters in  C  street." 

I  was  "F.,"  and  I  was  soon  deep  in  business.  But 
I  was  readily  able  to  identify  those  who  came  from 
curiosity,  and  as  the  persons  who  had  really  ful- 
filled the  conditions  expressed  in  my  advertisement 


404  THE  FILIGREE  BALL 

were  few,  an  evening  and  morning's  work  sufficed  to 
sift  the  whole  matter  down  to  the  one  man  who 
could  tell  me  just  what  I  wanted  to  know.  With 
this  man  I  went  to  the  major,  and  as  a  result 
we  all  met  later  in  the  day  at  Mr.  Moore's  door. 

This  gentleman  looked  startled  enough  when  he 
saw  the  number  and  character  of  his  visitors;  but 
his  grand  air  did  not  forsake  him  and  his  welcome 
was  both  dignified  and  cordial.  But  I  did  not  like 
the  way  his  eye  rested  on  me. 

But  the  slight  venom  visible  in  it  at  that  moment 
was  nothing  to  what  he  afterwards  displayed  when 
at  a  slight  growl  from  Rudge,  who  stood  in  an 
attitude  of  offense  in  the  doorway  beyond,  I  drew 
the  attention  of  all  to  the  dog  by  saying  sharply : 

"There  is  our  witness,  sirs.  There  is  the  dog 
who  will  not  cross  the  street  even  when  his  master 
calls  him,  but  crouches  on  the  edge  of  the  curb  and 
waits  with  eager  eyes  but  immovable  body,  till  that 
master  comes  back.  Isn't  that  so,  Mr.  Moore? 
Have  I  not  heard  you  utter  more  than  one  com- 
plaint in  this  regard?" 

"I  can  not  deny  it,"  was  the  stiff  reply,  "but 
what—" 

I  did  not  wait  for  him  to  finish. 

"Mr.  Currean,"  I  asked,  "is  this  the  animal  you 
passed  between  the  hours  of  seven  and  eight  on  the 


RUDGE  405 

evening  of  May  the  eleventh,  crouching  in  front  of 
this  house  with  his  nose  to  the  curbstone?" 

"It  is;  I  noted  him  particularly;  he  seemed  to 
be  watching  the  opposite  house." 

Instantly  I  turned  upon  Mr.  Moore. 

"Is  Rudge  the  dog  to  do  that,"  I  asked,  "if  his 
master  were  not  there?  Twice  have  I  myself  seen 
him  in  the  self-same  place  and  with  the  self- 
same air  of  expectant  attention,  and  both  times 
you  had  crossed  to  the  house  which  you  acknowl- 
edge he  will  approach  no  nearer  than  the  curb 
on  this  side  of  the  street." 

"You  have  me,"  was  the  short  reply  with  which 
Mr.  Moore  gave  up  the  struggle.  "Rudge,  go 
back  to  your  place.  When  you  are  wanted  in  the 
court-room  I  will  let  you  know." 

The  smile  with  which  he  said  this  was  sarcastic 
enough,  but  it  was  sarcasm  directed  mainly  against 
himself.  We  were  not  surprised  when,  after  some 
sharp  persuasion  on  the  part  of  the  major,  he 
launched  into  the  following  recital  of  his  secret 
relation  to  what  he  called  the  last  tragedy  ever 
likely  to  occur  in  the  Moore  family. 

"I  never  thought  it  wrong  to  be  curious  about 
the  old  place ;  I  never  thought  it  wrong  to  be  curi- 
ous about  its  mysteries.  I  only  considered  it  wrong, 
or  at  all  events  ill  judged,  to  annoy  Veronica  ip 


406  THE  FILIGREE  BALL 

regard  to  them,  or  to  trouble  her  in  any  way 
about  the  means  by  which  I  might  effect  an  en- 
trance into  its  walls.  So  I  took  the  one  that  offered 
and  said  nothing. 

"I  have  visited  the  old  house  many  times  during 
my  sojourn  in  this  little  cottage.  The  last  time 
was,  as  one  of  your  number  has  so  ably  discovered, 
on  the  most  memorable  night  in  its  history; 
the  one  in  which  Mrs.  Jeffrey's  remarkable  death 
occurred  there.  The  interest  roused  in  me  by  the 
unexpected  recurrence  of  the  old  fatality  attending 
the  library  hearthstone  reached  its  culmination 
when  I  perceived  one  night  the  glint  of  a  candle 
burning  in  the  southwest  chamber.  I  did  not  know 
who  was  responsible  for  this  light,  but  I  strongly 
suspected  it  to  be  Mr.  Jeffrey ;  for  who  else  would 
dare  to  light  a  candle  in  this  disused  house  without 
first  seeing  that  all  the  shutters  were  fast?  I  did 
not  dislike  Mr.  Jeffrey  or  question  his  right  to  do 
this.  Nevertheless  I  was  very  angry.  Though  al- 
lied to  a  Moore  he  was  not  one  himself  and  the  dif- 
ference in  our  privileges  affected  me  strongly.  Con- 
sequently I  watched  till  he  came  out  and  upon  posi- 
tively recognizing  his  figure  vowed  in  my  wrath  and 
jealous  indignation  to  visit  the  old  house  myself 
on  the  following  night  and  make  one  final  attempt 
to  learn  the  secret  which  would  again  make  me 


RUDGE  407 

feel  myself  the  equal  of  this  man,  if  not  his  su- 
perior. 

"It  was  early  when  I  went ;  indeed  it  was  not  quite 
dark;  but,  knowing  the  gloom  of  those  old  halls 
and  the  almost  impenetrable  nature  of  the  dark- 
ness which  settles  over  the  library  the  moment  the 
twilight  sets  in,  I  put  in  my  pocket  two  or  three 
candles,  the  candles,  sirs,  about  which  you  have 
made  such  a  coil.  My  errand  was  twofold.  I 
wanted  first  to  see  what  Mr.  Jeffrey  had  been  up 
to  the  night  before,  and  next,  to  spend  an  hour 
over  a  certain  book  of  old  memoirs  which  in  recall- 
ing the  past  might  explain  the  present.  You  re- 
member a  door  leading  into  the  library  from  the 
rear  room.  It  was  by  this  door  I  entered,  bringing 
with  me  from  the  kitchen  the  chair  you  afterwards 
found  there. 

I  knew  where  the  volume  of  memoirs  I  speak 
of  was  to  be  found — you  do,  too,  I  see — for  it 
was  my  hand  which  had  placed  it  in  its  pres- 
ent concealment.  Quite  determined  to  reread  such 
portions  of  it  as  I  had  long  before  marked  as 
pertinent  to  the  very  attempt  I  had  in  mind,  I 
brought  in  the  candelabrum  from  the  parlor  and 
drew  out  a  table  to  hold  it.  But  I  waited  a  few 
moments  before  taking  down  the  book  itself.  I 
wanted  first  to  learn  what  Mr.  Jeffrey  had  been  do- 


408  THE  FILIGREE  BALL 

ing  upstairs  the  night  before.  So  leaving  the  light 
burning  in  the  library,  I  proceeded  to  the  southwest 
chamber,  holding  an  unlit  candle  in  my  hand,  the 
light  feebly  diffused  through  the  halls  from  some 
upper  windows  being  sufficient  for  me  to  see  my 
way.  But  in  the  chamber  itself  all  was  dark. 

The  wind  had  not  yet  risen  and  the  shutter  which 
a  half-hour  later  moved  so  restlessly  on  its  creaking 
hinges,  hugged  the  window  so  tightly  that  I  imag- 
ined Mr.  Jeffrey  had  fastened  it  the  night  before. 
Looking  for  some  receptacle  in  which  to  set  the  can- 
dle I  now  lit,  I  failed  to  find  anything  but  an  empty 
tumbler,  so  I  made  use  of  that.  Then  I  glanced 
about  me,  but  seeing  nothing  worth  my  attention — 
Mrs.  Jeffrey's  wedding  fixings  did  not  interest  me, 
and  everything  else  about  the  room  looking  natural 
except  the  overturned  chair,  which  struck  me  as  im- 
material— I  hurried  downstairs  again,  leaving  the 
candle  burning  behind  me  in  case  I  should  wish  to 
return  aloft  after  I  had  refreshed  my  mind  with 
what  had  been  written  about  this  old  room. 

"Not  a  sound  disturbed  the  house  as  I  seated 
myself  to  my  reading  in  front  of  the  library 
shelves.  I  was  as  much  alone  under  that  desolate 
roof  as  mortal  could  be  with  men  anywhere  within 
reach  of  him.  I  enjoyed  the  solitude  and  was 
making  a  very  pretty  theory  for  myself  on  a  scrap 
of  paper  I  tore  from  another  old  book  when  a  noise 


RUDGE  409 

suddenly  rose  in  front,  which,  slight  as  it  was,  was 
quite  unmistakable  to  ears  trained  in  listening. 
Some  one  was  unlocking  the  front  door. 

"Naturally  I  thought  it  to  be  Mr.  Jeffrey  re- 
turning for  a  second  visit  to  his  wife's  house,  and 
knowing  what  I  might  expect  if  he  surprised  me 
on  the  premises,  I  restored  the  book  hastily  to  its 
place  and  as  hastily  blew  out  the  candle.  Then, 
with  every  intention  of  flight,  I  backed  toward  the 
door  by  which  I  had  entered.  But  some  impulse 
stronger  than  that  of  escape  made  me  stop  just  be- 
fore I  reached  it.  I  could  see  nothing;  the  place 
was  dark  as  Tophet ;  but  I  could  listen.  The  person 
— Mr.  Jeffrey,  or  some  other — was  coming  my  way 
and  in  perfect  darkness.  I  could  hear  the  faltering 
steps — the  fingers  dragging  along  the  walls;  then 
a  rustle  as  of  skirts,  proving  the  intruder  to  be  a 
woman — a  fact  which  greatly  surprised  me — then 
a  long  drawn  sigh  or  gasp. 

"The  last  determined  me.  The  situation  was  too 
intense  for  me  to  leave  without  first  learning  who 
the  woman  was  who  in  terror  and  shrinking  dared 
to  drag  her  half  resisting  feet  through  these  empty 
halls  and  into  a  place  cursed  with  such  unwhole- 
some memories.  I  did  not  think  of  Veronica.  No 
one  looks  for  a  butterfly  in  the  depths  of  a  dun- 
geon. But  I  did  think  of  Miss  Tuttle — that  wom- 
an of  resolute  will.  Without  attempting  to  im- 


410  THE  FILIGREE  BALL 

agine  the  reason  for  her  presence,  I  stood  my 
ground  and  harkened  till  the  heavy  mahogany 
door  at  the  other  end  of  the  room  began  to  swing 
in  by  jerks  under  the  faint  and  tremulous  push  of 
a  terrified  hand.  Then  there  came  silence — a  long 
silence — followed  by  a  moan  so  agonized  that  I 
realized  that  whatever  was  the  cause  of  this  panting 
woman's  presence  here,  it  was  due  to  no  mere  errand 
of  curiosity.  This  whetted  my  purpose.  Anything 
done  in  this  house  was  in  a  way  done  to  me;  so 
I  remained  quiet  and  watched.  But  the  sounds 
which  now  and  then  came  from  the  remote  corner 
upon  which  my  attention  was  concentrated  were 
very  eloquent. 

I  heard  sighs  and  bitter  groans,  with  now  and 
then  a  murmured  prayer,  broken  by  a  low  wail- 
ing, in  which  I  caught  the  name  of  Francis.  And 
still,  possibly  on  account  of  the  utterance  of  this 
name,  I  thought  the  woman  near  me  to  be  Miss 
Tuttle,  and  even  went  so  far  as  to  imagine  the 
cause  of  her  suffering  if  not  the  nature  of  her 
retribution.  Words  succeeded  cries  and  I  caught 
phrases  expressive  of  fear  and  some  sort  of  agon- 
ized hesitation.  Once  these  broken  ejaculations 
were  interrupted  by  a  dull  sound.  Something 
had  dropped  to  the  bare  floor.  We  shall  never 
know  what  it  was,  but  I  have  no  doubt  that  it  was 
the  pistol,  and  that  the  marks  of  dust  to  be  found 


RUDGE  Hit 

on  the  connecting  ribbon  were  made  by  her  own 
fingers  in  taking  it  again  in  her  hand.  (You  will 
remember  that  these  same  fingers  had  but  a  few 
minutes  previous  groped  their  way  along  the  walls. ) 
For  her  voice  soon  took  a  different  tone,  and  such 
unintelligible  phrases  as  these  could  be  heard  issu- 
ing from  her  partly  paralyzed  lips : 

"  'I  must ! — I  can  never  meet  his  eye  again  alive. 
He  would  despise —  Brave  enough  to — to — 
another's  blood — coward — when — own.  Oh,  God! 
forgive !'  Then  another  silence  during  which 
I  almost  made  up  my  mind  to  interfere,  then  a  loud 
report  and  a  flash  so  startling  and  unexpected  that 
I  recoiled,  during  which  the  room  leaped  into  sud- 
den view — she  too — Veronica — with  baby  face 
drawn  and  set  like  a  woman's — then  darkness  again 
and  a  heavy  fall  which  shook  the  floor,  if  not  my 
hard  old  heart.  The  flash  and  that  fall  enlight- 
ened me.  I  had  just  witnessed  the  suicide  of  the 
last  Moore  saving  myself;  a  suicide  for  which  I 
was  totally  unprepared  and  one  which  I  do  not  yet 
understand. 

"I  did  not  go  over  to  her.  She  was  as  dead  when 
she  fell  as  she  ever  would  be.  In  the  flash  which  lit 
everything,  I  had  seen  where  her  pistol  was  pointed. 
Why  disturb  her  then?  Nor  did  I  return  upstairs. 
I  had  small  interest  now  in  anything  but  my  own 
escape  from  a  situation  more  or  less  compromising. 


412  THE  FILIGREE  BALL 

Do  you  blame  me  for  this?  I  was  her  heir  and  1 
was  where  I  had  no  legal  right  to  be.  Do  you  think 
that  I  was  called  upon  to  publish  my  shame  and 
tell  how  I  lingered  there  while  my  own  niece  shot 
herself  before  my  eyes?  That  shot  made  me  a 
millionaire.  This  certainly  was  excitement  enough 
for  one  day — besides,  I  did  not  leave  her  there  neg- 
lected. I  notified  you  later — after  I  had  got  my 
breath  and  had  found  some  excuse.  That  wasn't 
enough  ?  Ah,  I  see  that  you  are  all  models  of  cour- 
age and  magnanimity.  You  would  have  laid  your- 
selves open  to  every  reproach  rather  than  let  a  little 
necessary  perjury  pass  your  lips.  But  I  am  no 
model.  I  am  simply  an  old  man  who  has  been  too 
hardly  dealt  with  for  seventy  long  years  to  possess 
every  virtue.  I  made  a  mistake — I  see  it  now — 
trusted  a  dog  when  I  shouldn't — but  if  Rudge  had 
not  seen  ghosts — well,  what  now?" 

We  had,  one  and  all,  with  an  involuntary  im- 
pulse, turned  our  backs  upon  him. 

"What  are  you  doing?"  he  hotly  demanded. 

"Only  what  all  Washington  will  do  to-morrow, 
and  afterwards  the  whole  world,"  gravely  returned 
the  major.  Then,  as  an  ejaculation  escaped  the 
astonished  millionaire,  he  impressively  added:  "A 
perjury  which  allows  an  innocent  man  and  woman 
to  remain  under  the  suspicion  of  murder  for  five 
weeks  is  one  which  not  only  the  law  has  a  right 


RUDGE  413 

to  punish,  but  which  all  society  will  condemn. 
Henceforth  you  will  find  yourself  under  a  ban,  Mr. 
Moore."* 

My  story  ends  here.  The  matter  never  came 
before  the  grand  jury.  Suicide  had  been  proved, 
and  there  the  affair  rested.  Of  myself  it  is  enough 
to  add  that  I  sometimes  call  in  Durbin  to  help  me 
in  a  big  case. 


*  Time  amply  verified  this  prophecy.  Mr.  Moore  is  liv- 
ing in  great  style  in  the  Moore  house,  and  drives  horses 
which  are  conspicuous  even  in  Washington.  But  no  one 
accepts  his  invitations,  and  he  is  as  much  of  a  recluse  in 
his  present  mansion  as  he  ever  was  in  the  humble  cottage 
in  which  his  days  of  penury  were  spent. 


xxvn 

! !  YOU  HAVE  SOUGHT  ME  !" 

These  are  some  words  from  a  letter  written  a  few 
months  after  the  foregoing  by  one  Mrs.  Edward 
Truscott  to  a  friend  in  New  York: 

"Edinburgh,  May  7th,  1900. 

"Dear  Louisa : — You  have  always  accused  me  of 
seeing  more  and  hearing  more  than  any  other  per- 
son of  your  acquaintance.  Perhaps  I  am  fortunate 
in  that  respect.  Certainly  I  have  been  favored  to- 
day with  an  adventure  of  some  interest  which  I 
make  haste  to  relate  to  you. 

"Being  anxious  to  take  home  with  me  some 
sketches  of  the  exquisite  ornamentation  in  the 
Rosslyn  chapel  about  which  I  wrote  you  so  enthu- 
siastically the  other  day,  I  took  advantage  of  Ed- 
ward's absence  this  morning  to  visit  the  place 
again  and  this  time  alone.  The  sky  was  clear  and 
the  air  balmy,  and  as  I  approached  the  spot  from 
the  near-by  station  I  was  not  surprised  to  see  an- 
other woman  straying  quietly  about  the  exterior 
414 


"YOU  HAVE  COME!"  415 

of  the  chapel  gazing  at  walls  which,  interesting 
as  they  are,  are  but  a  rough  shell  hiding  the  in- 
comparable beauties  within.  I  noticed  this  lady; 
I  could  not  help  it.  She  was  one  to  attract  any 
eye.  Seldom  have  I  seen  such  grace,  such  beauty, 
and  both  infused  by  such  melancholy.  Her  sadness 
added  wonderfully  to  her  charm,  and  I  found  it 
hard  enough  to  pass  her  with  the  single  glance 
allowable  to  a  stranger,  especially  as  she  gave  evi- 
dence of  being  one  of  my  own  countrywomen. 

"However,  I  saw  no  alternative,  and  once  within 
the  charmed  edifice,  forgot  everything  in  the  con- 
genial task  I  had  set  for  myself.  For  some  reason 
the  chapel  was  deserted  at  this  moment  by  all  but 
me.  As  the  special  scroll-work  I  wanted  was 
in  a  crypt  down  a  short  flight  of  steps  at  the 
right  of  the  altar,  I  was  completely  hidden  from 
view  to  any  one  entering  above  and  was  enjoying 
both  my  seclusion  and  the  opportunity  it  gave  me 
of  carrying  out  my  purpose  unwatched  when  I 
heard  a  light  step  above  and  realized  that  the  ex- 
quisite beauty  which  had  so  awakened  my  admira- 
tion had  at  last  found  its  perfect  setting.  Such  a 
face  amid  such  exquisite  surroundings  was  a  rare 
sight,  and  interested  as  I  always  am  in  artistic 
effects  I  was  about  to  pocket  pencil  and  pad 
and  make  my  way  up  to  where  she  moved  among  the 
carved  pillars  when  I  heard  a  soft  sigh  above  and 


416  THE  FILIGREE  BALL 

caught  the  rustle  of  her  dress  as  she  sat  down  upon 
a  bench  at  the  head  of  the  steps  near  which  I  stood. 
Somehow  that  sigh  deterred  me.  I  hesitated  to 
break  in  upon  a  melancholy  so  invincible  that  even 
the  sight  of  all  this  loveliness  could  not  charm  it 
away,  and  in  that  moment  of  hesitation  something 
occurred  above  which  fixed  me  to  my  place  in  irre- 
pressible curiosity. 

"Another  step  had  entered  the  open  door  of  the 
chapel — a  man's  step — eager  and  with  a  purpose 
in  it  eloquent  of  something  deeper  than  a  mere 
tourist's  interest  in  this  loveliest  of  interiors.  The 
cry  which  escaped  her  lips,  the  tone  in  which  he 
breathed  her  name  in  his  hurried  advance,  con- 
vinced me  that  this  was  a  meeting  of  two  lovers 
after  a  long  heart-break  and  that  I  should  mar  the 
supreme  moment  of  their  lives  by  intruding  into 
it  the  unwelcome  presence  of  a  stranger.  So  I 
lingered  where  I  was  and  thus  heard  what  passed 
between  them  at  this  moment  of  all  moments  in 
their  lives. 

"It  was  she  who  spoke  first. 

"  'Francis,  you  have  come !  You  have  sought 
me!' 

"To  which  he  replied  in  choked  accents  which 
yet  could  not  conceal  the  inexpressible  elation  of  his 
heart: 

"  'Yes,  I  have  come,  I  have  sought  you.     Why 


"YOU  HAVE  COME!"  417 

did  you  fly?  Did  you  not  see  that  my  whole  soul 
was  turning  to  you  as  it  never  turned  even  to — to 
her  in  the  best  days  of  our  unshaken  love ;  and  that 
I  could  never  rest  till  I  found  you  and  told  you 
how  the  eyes  which  have  once  been  blind  enjoy  a 
passion  of  seeing  unknown  to  others — a  passion 
which  makes  the  object  seem  so  dear — so  dear — ' 

"He  paused,  perhaps  to  look  at  her,  perhaps  to 
recover  his  own  self-possession,  and  I  caught  the 
echo  of  a  sigh  of  such  utter  content  and  triumph 
from  her  lips  that  I  was  surprised  when  in  another 
moment  she  exclaimed  in  a  tone  so  thrilling  that  I 
am  sure  no  common  circumstances  had  separated 
this  pair: 

"  'Have  we  a  right  to  happiness  while  she — Oh, 
Francis,  I  can  not!  She  loved  you.  It  was  her 
love  for  you  which  drove  her — ' 

"  'Cora !'  came  with  a  sort  of  loving  authority, 
'we  have  buried  our  erring  one  and  passionately  as 
I  loved  her,  she  is  no  more  mine,  but  God's.  Let  her 
woeful  spirit  rest.  You  who  suffered,  supported — 
who  sacrificed  all  that  woman  holds  dear  to  save 
what,  in  the  nature  of  things,  could  not  be  saved — 
have  more  than  right  to  happiness  if  it  is  in  my 
power  to  give  it  to  you;  I,  who  have  failed  in  so 
much,  but  never  in  anything  more  than  in  not  see- 
ing where  true  worth  and  real  beauty  lay.  Cora, 
there  is  but  one  hand  which  can  lift  the  shadow 


418  THE  FILIGREE  BALL 

from  my  life.  That  hand  I  am  holding  now — do 
not  draw  it  away — it  is  my  anchor,  my  hope.  I 
dare  not  confront  life  without  the  promise  it  holds 
out.  I  should  be  a  wreck — ' 

"His  emotion  stopped  him  and  there  was  si- 
lence; then  I  heard  him  utter  solemnly,  as  befitted 
the  place :  'Thank  God !'  and  I  knew  that  she  had 
turned  her  wonderful  eyes  upon  him  or  nestled  her 
hand  in  his  clasp  as  only  a  loving  woman  may. 

"The  next  moment  I  heard  them  draw  away  and 
leave  the  place. 

"Do  you  wonder  that  I  long  to  know  who  they  are 
and  what  their  story  is  and  whom  they  meant  by 
'the  erring  one?'  " 


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A  Romance  Founded  Upon  Events  in  American  History. 
By  CHARLES  FELTON  PIDGIN 

One  of  the  most  successful  of  American  historical  novels  of  recent 
years.  A  fascinating  tale  of  the  times  of  Aaron  Burr  and  Alexander 
Hamilton. 

"  The  narrative  is  well  sustained,  the  style  vigorous  and  attractive, 
and  the  situations  are  so  intelligently  managed  and  humorously  con- 
nected, that  it  is  with  regret  that  the  reader  lays  down  the  book 
and  contemplates  the  /£««."—  New  Orleans  Picayune. 

"  The  incidents  of  the  tale  are  intensely  dramatic,  and  the  pictures 
by  C.  H.  Stephens  are  among  the  most  striking  ever  given  to  any 
historical  novel."  —  Boston  Globe. 
Large  I2mot  cloth  bound,  with  12  full-page  illustrations 

by  C.  H.  Stephens.    Price,  75  cents. 
Cither  of  the  above  books  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price. 


GROSSET  &   DUNLAP 

II  E.  i6xH  STREET         ::         ::         NEW  YORK 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

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This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


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